


A Place Without Expectation

by the_real_vampire (Charley_pie)



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Ninja Storm
Genre: Anachronic Order, Angst, But with some cute thrown in, Desert, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, This-should-have-been-a-one-shot-but-author-got-carried-away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charley_pie/pseuds/the_real_vampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road stretches forward across the flat earth, seemingly forever; a sliver of black cutting through the landscape with razor-sharp precision. The lone traveller stares out at the scenery with faraway eyes; looking but not seeing, lost in memories. The desert suits him, mirroring his mood; his heart as empty and barren as the plains. It is a place without expectation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RebelPaisley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelPaisley/gifts).



> For all those readers following my other story, _My Brother's Keeper_ , I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, honest. I just got slightly distracted by this 'little' plot bunny which jumped on me and hasn't let go yet. I will get the next chapter of that up asap. Until then... This was meant to be a one-shot, short and sweet. However, like most things I begin writing at the moment, it kinda... got away from me a bit (read: a lot. The file on my computer currently is telling me I'm at 30,000 words and counting...)
> 
> This story is slash (so if you don't like, don't read) about a couple that, a year ago, I didn't really like. Now, strangely, they're one of my favourites and it's all down to **RebelPaisley** , my wonderful beta for My Brother's Keeper (and whatever else I get around to sending her). Most importantly, this is a HUGE (and I really do mean huge) thank you for all her hard work, because without her my stories would not be as good. Seriously, you guys do not see the behind-the-scenes that goes into my writing and she puts up with a *lot* - complaining/uncertainty/multiple versions of chapters/panicked "ahhh" moments... She's the best beta a gal could ask for, and more importantly she's an awesome friend.
> 
> RP, this one's for you :-)

" _A desert is a place without expectation."  
~ Nadine Gordimer ~_  


The road stretches forward across the flat earth, seemingly forever; a sliver of black cutting through the landscape with razor-sharp precision.

On the horizon hulks of rock jut out against the sky, blue and indistinct in the hazy distance. Lakes of heat shimmer above the sun-baked earth; images of water that doesn't exist, tantalising mirages to fool an unwary traveller.

The motorbike parked by the side of the road clinks occasionally as it struggles to cool in the oppressive midday heat. A leather jacket is draped carelessly over its seat, a helmet dangling from the handlebars as its owner takes a long-needed break. Standing on the scrub verge, the tall man takes a long drink of water from a plastic bottle, trying to introduce some moisture to his parched mouth and rinse the dust from the back of his throat.

Thirst sated, for now, he pours the last few dregs over his hair and face, gaining brief relief from the sweaty stickiness coating his skin. The few drops of liquid that fall to land on the black tarmac evaporate quickly in the heat, leaving behind no trace of there ever having been water there. The blond stuffs the now-empty bottle back into the rucksack at his feet, before returning his gaze to the desert, staring out at the scenery with faraway eyes; looking but not seeing, lost in memories. The desert suits him, mirroring his mood; his heart as empty and barren as the plains he's been travelling through.

Shaking away whatever thoughts have enticed him into their embrace, the rider shrugs on the sweat-soaked jacket and slings the rucksack back onto his shoulders. Retrieving his helmet he slings a leg across his bike, pausing for a moment; the faintest tightening of the muscles in his neck, almost as if he's resisting the urge to turn his head and glance behind him. But the moment passes, helmet once again enclosing his head, and he twists the throttle, bike roaring into life and then he's moving on once again. The tarmac is tacky beneath his wheels, the road partially melted by the fierceness of the sun. He supposes it must be summer – it's certainly hot enough – although he doesn't know for sure and doesn't really care.

The miles pass with unerring monotony, the road continuing straight and true, as far as the eye can see.

But then subtle differences start to materialise; the flatness of desert is beginning to end, low rolling hills starting to break the uniformity and the landscape becoming dominated by tall pillars of red rock that leap up from seemingly nowhere, reaching up to breath-taking heights, dark shadows pooling at their base.

Stunted creosote bushes, their leaves leached of colour and now a dead, brittle yellow, hug the soft contours of the ground, interspersed by the spiny, dry bones of ocotillos and the occasional yucca, dull green and dust-covered. Here and there, single, stick-like masts stand proud above the plains, the last act of lechuguillas, the remains of their one and only flower, one beautiful moment before they die, leaving these faded glories projecting up to the sky; their only legacy, their mark on the land that nurtured them.

The only life to be found is a hawk flying high above, a tiny dark speck in the azure sky.

Somewhere along the way the surface he's riding over has changed. No longer smooth black but faded to a pale grey, worn and weather-beaten. Cracks, some new, many old, criss-cross it, making it uneven and dangerous for the tired or inexperienced traveller. The desert too has begun to encroach on the road; brown sand spilling over the edges and reaching out in waves towards the centre, the bike wheels throwing up clouds of dust as they pass across it. Nature reclaims its own.

The day grows old; the sun starting its descent into the west, hanging low above the horizon and heralding in that magical hour – beloved by film-makers and photographers – where the world is bathed in a bright, golden light, everything hyper-real and strangely disconnected. Finally the dust ahead clears, scrubland giving way to buildings, squat and low against the expanse of sky.

The township is tiny, eerily quiet, but as the rider approaches faint signs of life emerge; a truck idling outside a store, some kids throwing a football on an area of bare earth, a dog slinking behind some trashcans. There's a motel on the left before the route enters the town proper, run down and dilapidated; the once white paint flaking and grey in the early evening light. A rusty sign by the roadside proclaims in peeling letters, "Welcome to Santa Luca. Pop - 79".

It seems as good a place to stop for now as any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Author's Note_
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> 
> Or two or three... just before the story begins. Really more of a disclaimer. Some of this story is set in New Mexico but, having never been there, I am using a lot of artistic licence here. The town of Santa Luca (as far as I'm aware) doesn't exist, except in my mind. What I wanted (and was aiming for) was a taste of old-school Americana - we're talking Route 66 here - but most of my information has come from Disney's 'Cars', spaghetti westerns (which yes, I know, were filmed in Europe) and from knowing all the words to *that* Chuck Berry song. The desert itself is meant to be the Chichuahuan, however what it *actually* is, is a mixture of my brief first-hand visits to California and Nevada, thrown in with longer experiences in North Africa and Australia, tied together with a little bit of research. Please forgive any inaccuracies. 
> 
> Finally, this story shall be unbeta-ed (which is probably why it's been taking me a while) because I can't make RP beta her own gift now. That would be rude. So all mistakes and errors are totally my fault and yeah, I'll apologise now to save time later! 
> 
> That's all for now folks. More to come soon!


	2. Part 1

The first time Shane meets Hunter he dislikes him.

He thinks he’s, well to put it bluntly, a dick.

Cocky and duplicitous with a spiteful, mean streak that Shane knows Dustin won’t have picked up on. And it’s Dustin that introduces the two of them. Dustin, his best friend and teammate who isn’t stupid – he really isn’t – but he is woefully naïve and trusting. Too trusting, if you ask Shane, not that anyone ever does. He supposes it’s just part and parcel of Dustin’s… _Dustin-ness_. And yes, the earth ninja can take care of himself but they’ve been friends for years; excuse him for being overly protective. The fact that Hunter then was the cause, well, the subject, of an argument between the two friends only adds to Shane’s immediate dislike of the blond.

The second time they meet he hates him.

Admittedly the thunder ninja’s in the process of kidnapping Sensei Kanoi with the intent to murder him, so yeah hate understandable. But it’s more than his actions that Shane detests. It’s his arrogant posture, cold eyes and cruel smile. It is the way he beats them without looking like he’s trying.

The third time they meet, Shane has some context for Hunter’s behaviour, thanks to a sketchy history lesson from Blake and the fact evil alien brainwashing is involved. It doesn’t make him dislike him any less, but at least he understands a little of where the blond is coming from (and, y’know, the brainwashing thing too).

By the time the Bradleys actually join the team, Shane’s figured he probably can tolerate Hunter – put up with him – if it means saving the world, but he knows they’ll never be _friends_. And he’s cool with that.

It’s only after Cam becomes a ranger, after a month of them fighting together, that Shane begins to discover some of the harsh truth behind Hunter’s attitude problem(s).

The two brothers are polar opposites, at least at first glance and certainly when it comes to inter-personal relationships.

To all appearances Blake has fitted seamlessly into the team and adapted to life in Blue Bay as easily as if he’s always been there, though Shane suspects the younger Bradley is just as good at lying as his brother. Perhaps better, as while on the surface Blake is garrulous and friendly, Shane’s soon realised that he has the rare ability to say a lot, without saying anything at all. Nothing personal or important, but he gives the impression of sharing, of being open while in reality he’s not giving anything away.

Hunter meanwhile hasn’t even adopted a semblance of friendliness. He’s remained aloof, distant from them all, reticent and reserved. He seems wary of everyone, even Dustin, which Shane finds absurd. The only time the older Bradley interacts with any of the team outside of training is the regular runs he goes on with the red ranger; a routine left over from the Total Trek competition and Sensei’s attempts to curb their rivalry. Since then, Shane would like to say Hunter’s accepted the darker teen’s leadership but he can’t because Hunter hasn’t. Or at least, the crimson ranger follows those orders he deems worthy and actively questions every other decision, pushing the limits of Shane’s patience. The times they argue are about the only times they actually communicate.

Initially the air ninja puts this antisocial attitude down to his previous estimation of Hunter – the guy’s a dick – but on closer inspection he begins to doubt that prognosis. He’s starting to believe Hunter’s behaviour isn’t deliberate (outside of the disagreeing with orders thing), that he genuinely doesn’t know how to act around them, that he’s expecting them to turn around at any moment and… Hurt him? Tell him to go away? Be mean to him?

Shane’s not sure; it all sounds a little first grade to him, but when he confronts Blake with these deductions (because heaven forbid he try and broach the subject with the crimson ranger) the younger Bradley is less than forthcoming with him. Eventually Shane manages to get a real answer out of him, and then almost immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“He just doesn’t know you yet,” the thunder ninja says, a clear plea of ‘ _give him more time_ ’ beneath his words.

Shane’s not fooled. “It’s been weeks, Blake. How much time does he need? What’s he expecting us to do? Turn out to be the bad guys after all?”

Blake lets out a huff of air and shoots a worried look towards the back room of Storm Chargers where the object of their discussion is currently working on a bike. He grabs Shane’s arm and propels the red ranger further into the store, as far away from Hunter as possible, and drops his voice to a low whisper. “Look, there’s something you have to understand about… Well, about our past I guess. You see, Sensei Kanoi knew our parents, used to visit them every now and again. I- _We_ think it’s part of the reason they were killed.”

Shane doesn’t know how to respond to that revelation and Blake shakes his head at the shocked look on the red ranger’s face.

“What, you thought our parents made a habit of opening the door to evil space ninjas?” he scoffs. “How else do you think Lothor got so close? Or why they didn’t try to defend themselves until it was too late? Or why the hell Hunter and I actually thought your Sensei had done it? We’re not _that_ stupid.”

Shane has to confess he hasn’t given it much thought.

“Sensei didn’t mention he knew you.”

“Not to you, maybe.” Blake sighs and shoots another wary look towards the back of the shop. “Hunter remembers, you know. He was old enough to. And we were both there.”

Icy fingers dig into Shane’s flesh as he realises what the younger man is telling him. _They were there_ … They were there when Lothor murdered their parents. And Hunter remembers. That- The implications of that- Shane can’t even put into words the horror that knowledge brings.

Blake must sense something of the whirlwind of emotion the air ninja is feeling because his next words are said far more gently. “Hunter knew Sensei Kanoi and then a man who looked remarkably like him killed our parents in front of us. Add that to us putting mistaken faith in Lothor and you can imagine Hunter may have a _few_ issues with trust.”

Shane doesn’t have to stretch his imagination far to see that. “You don’t,” he points out.

Blake gives him a cheeky grin. “That’s because I’m well-adjusted.” More seriously he says, “Hunter knows we messed things up by attacking you guys. He doesn’t forgive easily and I don’t think he understands how you can. I think… I think he’s still expecting you to turn around and kick us off the team. Because that’s what _he’d_ do. And y’know,” he adds slyly.  “You guys don’t hang out with him as much as you do with me. I think he feels like a bit of an outsider. Not that he’ll ever say anything.”

Shane ignores the ‘ _that’s what he’d do_ ’ comment as, if he’s being honest, the only reason he accepted the Bradleys onto the team so soon after the island debacle was because the _entire fate of the world_ is resting on their shoulders and you do not let petty personal feelings get in the way of something like that. You just don’t. The more of _them_ there is, the safer the world is, right?

He focuses instead on the other point Blake has made, the one about them not hanging out with Hunter as much. The navy ranger had dropped it in all casual-like, but Shane decides Blake’s been wanting to talk to him about this for a while and in typical Bradley-brother fashion hasn’t been able to figure out how to bring the subject up. Shane feels a twinge of guilt; as the leader he should have already _noticed_ this and made an effort to do something about it. And while, yes, he’d picked up on the fact that Hunter was distant (hence speaking to Blake now) he’d put the blame fully on the crimson ranger’s shoulders. Which wasn’t fair. After all, it takes two people to make a friendship work and Shane knows he hasn’t made any effort with Hunter, no more than the bare minimum that Sensei’s required of him, and as a group they _don’t_ hang out with Hunter much. If at all.

If he was looking for an excuse, Shane would say that it’s partially because Hunter doesn’t attend high school with them so there’s just not the opportunity to spend time with him. But there’s more to it than that; Cam doesn’t go to school with them either and they’re friends with him just fine. They’ve even tempted the samurai out of Ninja Ops on a few occasions, which are becoming less rare and more the common now he’s a fully-fledged member of the team.  They haven’t done the same with Hunter. The only time they (as a group) really interact with the older Bradley brother is during training. And alien attacks. Neither of which are exactly casual bonding.

A change is needed.

So that’s when Shane instigates what becomes the first of many ‘team bonding’ evenings. Well, team bonding afternoon, as it turns out. Not that they let on to Hunter that’s what it is; that’d just be asking for trouble.

Instead it’s more of a “ _hey-I’ve-just-got-this-really-cool-movie-come-round-mine-Saturday-afternoon-and-we-can-all-watch-it_ ” offer that isn’t entirely an offer. Blake’s instructed to make certain his brother knows he’s meant to be there too and obviously he does because Tori brings them both in her van. Even so, Shane’s glad that Hunter doesn’t appear to resent the fact he’s here, although it’s always difficult to tell. His face is frustratingly inscrutable and the red ranger decides he never wants to play him at poker, ever.

They congregate in Shane’s tv room (yeah he has a tv room; if anyone has a problem with that – _Hunter_ – they can just deal with it), popcorn to hand and _Iron Man_ showing on the screen. As the film draws to a close, Shane isn’t sure how successful the ‘bonding time’ has been. The thunder ninja’s remained silent for most of it, not really joining in the laughter and joking comments that have been flying around, but on the other hand he hasn’t flipped out, upset anyone or left early. Which could be considered progress.

In fact, as Shane’ll take what he can get where Hunter’s concerned, he’ll definitely file this afternoon under ‘progress’.

Almost as soon as the credits stop rolling, the crimson ranger begins shifting uneasily, clearly wanting to go home but equally obviously having to wait for his brother and Tori. Said couple are deep in some sort of discussion, heads together, vague whispers the only thing Shane can hear.

Finally Blake turns to the other thunder ninja, looking slightly awkward. “Uh, bro, Tori’s invited me around hers for dinner. Is that okay?"

Shane can feel the blush coming off the younger teen from here and Dustin digs him in the ribs; his not-so-subtle whisper of “Meeting the parents” echoing around the room.

“Oh _dude_ ,” Shane responds with exaggerated fear, causing Blake’s blush to deepen and Tori to roll her eyes with exasperation.

She fixes her gaze firmly on Shane and Dustin. “Jeez, you’re acting as if my parents are some sort of aliens, when you both know for a fact they’re lovely.”

Shane grins at the blonde. “Yeah but we’re never tried dating you,” he points out and his grin widens as Blake drops his head into his hands.

Tori laughs and pats her almost-boyfriend’s arm reassuringly. “You’ll be fine.” She turns her attention to Hunter who’s remained quiet throughout the whole exchange. “Um, are you going to be okay getting home? I’d drive you but you’re kinda in the wrong direction and I told mom we’d be there at seven…” she trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Shane knows Tori’s trying hard to include Hunter in things, painfully aware that she’s spending more and more time with Blake and inserting herself between the two brothers. The last thing she’d want to do is make him feel unwanted, even if this evening is clearly a ‘couple’ thing.

“I’ll be fine,” the crimson ranger says at the exact same moment Shane blurts out, “I can take you.” 

There’s a split second of shocked _nothing_ , of Hunter staring at him in confusion and there seems to be a need for him to clarify his offer. “I can drop you home,” he repeats and Tori shoots him a grateful look.

The blond doesn’t do a good job of hiding his surprise, or his discomfort. “No, it’s fine. I can walk home; it’s not that far,” he insists.

Shane rolls his eyes and overrides his objections. “Don’t be stupid. It’ll take you ages to walk. I’ll drive you.”

Hunter opens his mouth again and Shane just knows he’s about to protest, refuse, be a stubborn idiot but a cheerful voice breaks into the conversation.

“Well that’s sorted then,” Tori says brightly, grinning at the two red rangers as she links her arm through Blake’s. “We better be off. Don’t panic Mr. Grumpy-” This is aimed at Hunter. “-I’ll make sure your baby bro gets home safe and not _too_ late.”

She gives Shane a wink before dragging Blake from the room; the navy ranger’s goodbyes trailing away as they disappear off together.  

“Dude, does your brother know what he’s letting himself in for?” Dustin asks, turning to Hunter with a laugh. The thunder ninja shrugs without replying but the yellow ranger is completely unfazed, taking the older man’s behaviour in his stride. “Right, I should be off too. Promised mom I’d lend a hand with the twins tonight. See you tomorrow?”

Confirmations from them received, the curly-haired teen grabs his bike helmet and departs, leaving Shane and Hunter alone.

The red ranger turns to the other man with a smile, which quickly fades as he catches sight of the thunder ninja’s face. “What’s the matter?”  His voice is quiet but firm, almost demanding an answer.

The blond ducks his head, refusing to meet the other man’s eyes. “It’s nothing,” he says somewhat defensively, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

Shane almost lets out an audible groan, and finds himself debating the merits of trying to shake some sense into the crimson ranger. “Seriously bro, what’s up?”

“I don’t want to put you out,” Hunter mumbles, kicking the toe of his boot against the floor.

The dark haired man sighs. “You’re not ‘putting me out’. I have a car; it won’t take me ten minutes to run you home. Stop being such a… such a _martyr_.”

That elicits a snort from the blond. “Don’t you have to be super-religious to be one of those?” he asks rhetorically and Shane’s both surprised and pleased to see an actual, unfeigned smile grace Hunter’s face.

“Come on… Let’s get you home,” he says, making his way over to the bookcase to find his car keys.

The blond doesn’t offer up any further arguments and that’s how Shane finds himself in his car with the team’s most anti-social member, driving through the rush hour traffic in Blue Bay. An awkward silence descends and Shane wracks his brain desperately for something – anything – to say in order to break the weird quiet but his mind remains stubbornly blank.

It’s Hunter that speaks at last, much to Shane’s relief. “You all set for Homecoming?”

His question throws the red ranger for a moment, seeming to have come from left-field, but then he remembers that Blake’s been freaking out about asking Tori even though the two have been practically dating since the Bradleys joined the team (-“ _Yeah but I still have to **ask** her; she might say no._ ”-) and Dustin’s been complaining to anyone who would listen about how much he hates wearing suits (-“ _Dude, they make me look like a penguin_.”-). Hunter would have had to be both blind _and_ deaf to have not realised the dance was coming up.

The red ranger shrugs.  “Yeah, pretty much.” He hopes Hunter won’t ask what he’s sure is considered the obvious question but of course he does.

 “Date all sorted?”

Shane keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead, ignoring the blood rushing to his cheeks as he struggles to come up with an answer. He keeps his tone light and neutral, saying, “Nah, I haven’t exactly had time to think about it. Besides, there’s no one I like enough.”

Even to his ears the words are hollow excuses.

There’s a pregnant pause and Shane is silently begging the other man to drop the subject, but Hunter being Hunter and always contrary, pushes on. “Really? I’d have thought you’d have all the girls chasing you.”

 _Damn_ ; trust Hunter to ask the sort of thing Shane always has panic-attacks about strangers asking. He knows Hunter’s not doing it on purpose; his tone is filled with friendly curiosity and the red-clad teen realises he’s trying to be nice, but right now he’d really appreciate getting the gruff-and-taciturn crimson ranger back.

Shane tries to cover his sudden uneasiness with a laugh. “They’re… not my type.”

“Oh, in what way? Too immature?”

Hunter sounds genuinely intrigued and the air ninja pauses before answering, debating briefly how to answer. He’s not sure how the other man will take the truth but it’s not as if his sexuality is some big secret; it’s just never come up in conversation before.

And if he thinks about it, the thunder ninja’s possibly the only one of the team that isn’t aware. Tori and Dustin have known for years. They were the first people Shane went to when he began to question himself and they’ve always supported him. Cam found out when the entire Wind Academy did; right after Shane got into a fight with another student who’d made some homophobic comments. And he’s pretty sure Tori briefed Blake before the younger Bradley got it into his head to find Shane a date for Homecoming (the navy ranger had been hinting at something along those lines but had stopped rather suddenly. That had Tori’s signature all over it). Blake’s not a gossip, so Shane can’t imagine him telling his brother. That leaves Hunter as the last to know. Which doesn’t exactly sit right with Shane. Hunter _always_ seems the last to know now.

And if he wants to make the effort he needs to reach out first and _trust_ Hunter.  

Besides, the crimson ranger’s saved his life on more than one occasion now. Shane figures he owes him honesty.

He takes a breath.

“Too female,” he says finally, keeping his tone light while desperately trying to gauge the other man’s reaction, but for a long moment there’s nothing. Maybe the tiniest widening of the blond’s eyes revealing… shock? … surprise? … distaste?

Oh hell, he should have just kept his mouth shut, not said anything, just laughed and gone along with the ‘girls’ comment because now Hunter’s got a strange look on his face as if deciding what to say and whatever chance Shane had of remaining friends with the crimson ranger has totally been blown because he’s sure there’s judging – honest to goodness _judging_ – going on now behind those blue eyes and-

 “I’m bi.”

Hunter’s admission is quiet but clear and straight (hah) to the point. The casual divulgence of something so personal – and given that it’s from the older Bradley brother anything other than the weather is personal – leaves Shane stunned, thought processes derailed, brain struggling to process this new information.

When the silence threatens to stray back into the uncomfortable, the blond raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“I just, uh… You don’t… seem the type,” Shane says lamely and even as the words leave his mouth he realises how stupid they sound. He risks a glance at Hunter, expecting the blond to be offended or, at best, to be laughing at him.

Instead the thunder ninja has a shy smile on his face. “I could say the same about you,” he remarks, gently and without accusation.

“Touché,” Shane mutters in response, and that’s it. The next thing Shane’s aware of is Hunter is asking him about training times for the week ahead and then they’re suddenly outside the Bradleys’ apartment block and the blond is thanking him for the ride and jumping out of the car with a promise to see him tomorrow at Ninja Ops.

Nothing more has been said on the subject of their sexuality and Shane feels a surge of gratitude towards the thunder ninja. Hunter had accepted the other man’s revelation without question and, almost as if in recognition of the trust Shane had put in him, had responded by sharing something of equal personal importance. The red ranger doesn’t know how open Hunter is about his sexuality, but he’s not going betray the blond’s confidence.

As he begins his drive home, Shane decides he’s mistaken about Hunter. Perhaps they can be friends after all. 


	3. Part 2

"He's gone."

Tori blinks blearily at the air ninja at her front door, about to berate him for making her get out of bed a full hour before she needs to, but the words make her pause and the tiredness sluices off her as she sees the bewildered and pain-filled look in Shane’s eyes. The air ninja is leaning heavily on the doorframe, a grey tinge to his face and a bruise beginning to discolour his cheek, and Tori instantly knows something has gone badly wrong.

The water sensei doesn’t need to ask who ‘he’ is.

There’s an awful sinking sensation in her stomach as she gets a proper look at Shane’s ragged condition and she steps aside to usher him into her apartment. He moves slowly, as if he’s sleepwalking, stuck in some dreamlike state, and Tori gently takes him by the arm to lead him into the living room, the early morning sun streaming in her window bathing the room in a soft yellow light.

She guides him to the sofa, kneeling in front of him and taking his large hands in her small ones. His are cold, shockingly so, and she can feel faint tremors running through them.

“What happened?” she asks gently but her question garners no response from the taller man. Realising he is in shock, she adopts a far sterner tone, “Shane, what happened?”

“I crashed my car,” he says, a sounding dazed.

Fear spikes through Tori as she assimilates this information with Shane’s previous words and her thoughts spiral off down a dark path. “Hunter-”

The name causes the air ninja to flinch and he closes his eyes for a long moment, making Tori fear the worst. “Shane, where is Hunter?”

She’s not sure whether it’s the words themselves or her own worry pouring into them but they seem to reach Shane, snapping him out of his shocked state.

“I don’t know,” he replies, eyes managing to focus on her face for the first time. “I just... I don’t know, Tori. He’s gone.” There’s a broken, childlike quality to his voice and Tori tightens her grip on Shane’s hands reflexively.

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t find him when I woke. He... he wasn’t there. I just thought he’d left early for a run or something but it was _really_ early and he didn’t come back and when I got up his mobile was on the table and he never leaves it behind in case Blake tries to ring and-”

He breaks off, choking back something that sounds suspiciously like a sob. His brown eyes are damp and he swallows hard a couple of times, trying to get himself under control. Tori doesn’t speak, just rubs her thumbs in gentle circles over the back of his hands, letting him know she’s there, trying to give him what comfort she can.

“He’s left his morpher, Tor. It was just there, on the table. He’s taken his bag too; the one he thinks I don’t know about, the one he keeps hidden in the wardrobe just in case and I never said I knew about it but I kept hoping he’d unpack it because I knew when he did it would mean he wanted to stay with me but it’s gone and he’s gone and he didn’t even _say goodbye_.” The words are tumbling out now, a flood filled with emotion; fear and confusion and panic all rolling over an underlying pain which is practically screaming through the cracks.

“Breathe,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice calm while her brain goes into overdrive, thoughts running wild. Where could Hunter have gone? What’s the logical explanation behind his sudden departure? “Have you checked with the Thunder Academy? Maybe he had to go in early?”

 _Aren’t you just over-reacting_? _Please just be over-reacting_. But there’s a clenching in Tori’s gut because she knows Shane; knows how rational, how in control and composed he is. This behaviour is so unlike him it’s scaring her a little.

Shane chokes out a laugh. “Please, Tor. What do you take me for? I phoned the Academy, soon as I saw his bag was gone. I spoke to Sensei Omino...” His voice fades away and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. Tori feels his hands tense beneath hers and she retightens her grip on them, trying to ground the air sensei.

“And?” she prompts when he doesn’t immediately continue.

“He said Hunter had left.” Shane’s voice is suddenly, awfully, empty; hollow and brittle like dry wood. He answers her as if he’s giving a mission report, impersonal and to the point. “He resigned from the Academy this morning and Omino thought it sounded like he’d already left Blue Bay. He said Hunter didn’t say where he was going, or when- _if_ he’d be back.” There’s a pause and his voice drops, the next part mumbled so softly Tori has to strain to hear him. “Hunter said we’d broken up.” 

“Oh Shane,” the blonde says, equally as quiet.

“I don’t understand, Tori. There wasn’t... There was nothing wrong. I didn’t _notice_ anything wrong and Hunter- He didn’t _say_ anything. He didn’t even leave a note. But he’s gone and I... I don’t know why.” He pulls a hand free of hers to rub it over his face. “I just wanted to find him. I needed to find him, so I jumped in my car but some guy cut me up and there was a metal post and who the hell puts posts _there_?”

He raises his head to meet her gaze, the faintest flash of anger in his eyes before they turn dull once again.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” he tells her and she gives him a suspicious look. “My head bumped something but I’m fine. The car’s in a bad way though; I managed to park it before I came to see you. I thought you’d know what to do. You always know what to do, what to say… Please Tori, I just… What do I do?” he whispers and there’s something so damaged, so _defeated_ in the tone of his voice that Tori knows he’s not talking about the car.

But she doesn’t have an answer, not this time; she can only offer helpless silence.

Shane’s face crumples, tears spilling from his eyes and his body goes slack, a puppet whose strings have been cut. The water ninja opens her arms and pulls him in close to her; they’re both on their knees, huddling together on her living room floor and Shane’s sobbing, whole body shaking as he clings to her tightly. The scene is disconcerting; she’s never seen Shane cry before, he’s always been so strong, so resilient and now, seeing him in so much pain…

Anger rises within in her, fierce and fiery. Shane is her brother, her family, and no one – not even _Hunter_ – gets to hurt her family. She takes a couple of deep breaths to re-centre herself; her focus needs to be on the man in her arms right now. A soft, ambiguous humming comes from her throat, the sort of noise she vaguely remembers her mother making when she cried as a child, reassuring him that he’s not alone, that she’s here and she’s going to look after him.

Slowly his tears subside, quietening to the occasional sniffle. As his grip on her loosens she draws back slightly, taking his head in her hands and running her thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away the wetness still clinging to them. “Will you be okay for a moment?”

She feels his arms tense around her and he sounds very young as he asks her where she’s going, as if he’s scared she’s going to leave him too.

Her fury at Hunter increases, but she manages to keep her voice calm and soothing, hiding the anger bubbling inside of her. “I’m going to phone Sensei and let him know what’s happened and that we’re not going to be taking our classes today. I’m going to speak to Cam too; you know if anyone can find-” _that stupid, thoughtless idiot_ “-him it’ll be Cam.”

Shane nods slowly; pulling away from her to sit back on the sofa and Tori sees a faint hope rekindle in his eyes. Her legs protest as she stands, cramped from kneeling on the floor, but she leans over and brushes her lips across the air ninja’s forehead. “I won’t be long.”

Grabbing her phone, the water sensei disappears into the kitchen, already dialling the Wind Academy. It’s Cam that picks up and she gives him a quick run-down of the situation and finishing with, “So we won’t be teaching today. I’m sure cover won’t be an issue?” When he reassures her that he’ll take care of it some of the pressure in her chest eases; one problem sorted, but the larger one remains… “… Can you help?” she blurts out and there’s hesitation from the samurai before he replies.

“I’m not sure.” His voice is calm, level and unwavering. “I’ll need to look into some things. If it can be done I will do it-”

The sentence feels unfinished to Tori, almost as if Cam was about to continue speaking yet didn’t. “But?” she presses.

There’s a sigh. “ _But_ I was wondering if it would be wise. Hunter’s left for a reason. Is Shane running after him really the best solution?” It’s Tori’s turn to admit she doesn’t know and Cam softens his tone. “I’ll try to find him, Tori. Once we have a trace on him _then_ we can decide what to do. Is that acceptable to you?”

The water ninja nods, then remembers Cam can’t see her and gives him her quiet consent. With a promise to update them if anything changes, they say their goodbyes and Tori taps a finger thoughtfully against her lip. Peering around the doorframe into the living room, she sees Shane still sitting where she’d left him on the sofa, head in his hands, unmoving.

Ducking back into the kitchen she retrieves her phone, fingers flying across the keypad as she dials the number from memory. “Come on, come on, pick up,” she mutters as it rings. “Pick up damn yo-”

There’s a click on the other end of the line and a wonderfully familiar, cheerful voice answers, “Hey you. What’s up?”

Part of her melts at the warmth in the other’s tone and she longs to return the emotion, but then the anger slams back with full force.

“Where the hell is he?” she growls, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the air ninja in the other room.

Blake sounds taken back, confusion seeping into his tone. “Who?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Blake. I have spent the last half hour dealing with a distraught Shane. I am actually going to kill your brother when I get my hands on him. Now, _where is he_?” she hisses, pressing her palm firmly onto the flat surface of the worktop for support.

“Tori, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Honestly. Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Blake’s voice is calm, controlled and soothing. Not reacting to her emotional outburst with anger of his own. She loves him for it.

His reaction convinces her he genuinely has no idea what his brother’s done, no idea of the situation unfolding around them.

“Hunter’s gone,” she says at last, sinking back against the counter. There’s silence on the other end and she presses on, “Shane says he’s taken a... emergency bag? The one he has in the back of the wardrobe?”

Blake gives a non-committal hum, clearly knowing what she’s talking about so she takes that as a signal to continue, filling in the younger Bradley brother about the events of the morning, of what Sensei Omino said, of Hunter’s resignation and about him breaking up with Shane.

“He left his morpher, Blake,” she finishes, rubbing a hand across her face, a wave of exhaustion hitting her as the anger fades into worry. “Please tell me you can shed some light on this.”

She hears her boyfriend sigh and can picture him running a hand across his dark hair, brown eyes flooded with worry. She wishes he was here.

“The bag’s something we always used to have; everything we needed in case we had to make a quick getaway from wherever it was we were staying,” Blake begins carefully. “I unpacked mine when we joined you guys. Hunter didn’t. Old habits die hard I guess. But I don’t know anything about him leaving. I spoke to him only the other day; he was bitching about having to wear a tux for some black tie thing Shane’s parents were throwing. He never said anything was wrong.”

Tori can hear the anxiety creeping into his voice.

“Did you notice anything strange?”

There’s a slight pause on the other end and her heart skips a beat. Blake _did_ notice something, but when his answer comes it’s not what she expected.

“Well yeah actually. He sounded happy, Tor. Really happy. I don’t… What changed?”

Tori’s chest tightens at the sadness suddenly apparent in Blake’s voice. She knows he worries a lot about his older brother and had been relieved when Hunter appeared to have found someone to start a real life with. No one had really been surprised when the two red rangers had got together; the real surprise had been how long it had taken _them_ to realise how good they were for each other.

Hot tears begin to prick the back of the water ninja’s eyes as comprehension slowly sinks in; Hunter has gone, and he hasn’t even told his brother where.

“Tori, what happened?” Blake’s concern forces her mind back on track.

She wipes away the single trail of wetness that has escaped down her cheek and steadies herself. “Honestly? We don’t know. Shane doesn’t know. I’ve… I’ve never seen him like this before Blake. It’s… unsettling,” she finishes, unable to articulate the situation properly. 

“Do you want me to come home?” he says softly and Tori’s heart leaps into her throat.

 _Yes_ , _a million times yes_.

It’s tempting, so very tempting; to have Blake back with her. _Home_ … that’s what he called it. But it’s horribly selfish of her too. Blake is living out his dream and this thing between them is strangely working. It’s not easy, but then again, what in life is?

She swallows hard. “No. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

There’s a sudden, brief commotion on the other end of the line, a muffled conversation, before Blake’s voice returns, clear and apologetic, “Tor, I have to go. I’m sorry. Will you… Will you let me know if there’s any news?” She promises she will and Blake signs off with a quick, “Love you. Bye.”

“… Love you too,” Tori whispers, but he’s gone; the connection already dead. She presses the phone against her lips and holds very still for a long moment, trying to gather herself. Shaking off the melancholy that threatens to envelop her she heads back to see to the distraught man on her sofa.

Shane springs up from his seat when she re-enters the room and it’s apparent a change has come over the air ninja; there’s a sense of purpose about him, eyes dry and clear as he informs her, “I need to get the car towed and then I’m going to see Cam.” He flashes her a smile; it’s a brave and flimsy cover for the pain but the air sensei seems to have regained some of his familiar balance and composure. “You’re right Tor; we can find him. We _will_ find him,” he says, optimism in his tone. He gives her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you; you’re the best. See you at Ops?”

And then he’s gone, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. Slowly Tori sinks down onto the sofa, into the place left by Shane; faint traces of his body heat still clinging to the material. She stares unseeing at the ocean sparkling out beyond her window; the deep cerulean blue of the sky reflected in its depths, broken only by the few, white-tipped waves breaking out from shore. The whispered words slip almost unheeded from her lips; a curse or a prayer, she isn’t sure.

“Hunter, you fucking _idiot_. Do you realise what you’ve done?”


	4. Part 3

It’s a little thing that changes their almost indifferent friendship into something much more.  

A lazy Sunday morning and a rare spring rain storm which drives everyone inside, including Lothor and his creatures, finds the rangers – bar Cam who predictably is using the respite to run some upgrades on the zords – hanging out at Shane’s house. His parents have taken his younger sister Tianna to some dance competition in L.A. for the weekend so the teens have the run of the house.

They’ve all piled into the tv room; Blake and Tori already curling up together on the sofa and Dustin claiming one of the beanbags scattered on the floor. There’s the usual argument occurring over what to watch but while it rages on Shane can’t help but notice Hunter prowling around the edges of the room, still looking distinctly out of his comfort zone. In fairness to the thunder ninja it has to be noted that the last time he’d been here he’d been swamped by questions from a curious and enthusiastic Tianna, who’d seemed quite taken by the blond. Hunter had been utterly bemused by the excitable nine-year old and had been markedly uncomfortable by all the attention. He had responded to her though, asking about school and her favourite books, much to his sister’s delight.

Tia had declared him her favourite of all Shane’s friends once everyone had left and practically demanded he bring the blond over more often.

The memory brings a smile to the red ranger’s lips even if he’s not entirely sure _why_.

“Dude, we watched Brave like a week ago.”

Dustin’s exclamation draws Shane’s attention away from his contemplations of the crimson ranger and he sighs, knowing any minute now he’s going to be asked to act as mediator.

Tori pulls a face. “You just want to watch Thor again,” she complains, but her eyes are sparkling and she sticks her tongue out, letting the yellow ranger know she isn’t really annoyed at him.

“What about Twilight?” Blake suggests and must instantly regret it as he’s met by venomous “ _No’s_ ” as they both round on him. He throws up his hands in despair. “I only _asked_. I don’t know what it’s about.”

“Why do you even _have_ that hideous excuse for a film?” Tori asks, eyeing Shane suspiciously.

The red ranger groans. “It’s not mine. It’s Tia’s. And you guys are _so_ lucky to have not been here when she’s watching it with her friends.”

“Little sisters suck,” Dustin says and they exchange a knowing look, both having experienced the horror that is groups of prepubescent girls.

Tori glares at them but Blake chirps in before she can respond. “So… what are we watching?”

Shane’s suddenly faced by three pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly; he’s their leader and this is his house, so it’s his decision. He takes a breath and is just about to suggest an episode of _Firefly_ – the team favourite – when a quiet voice behind him makes him start.

“Red versus Blue?”

Shane turns to see Hunter holding up a dvd, a mixture of incredulity and- Is that an _impressed_ look on the blond’s face?

“You know it?” The red ranger is surprised; he thought he was the only one of the group who watched the web series.

Shane wishes he could have recorded the next moment forever for posterity and watch it again and again and _again_ because the _crimson_ ranger – Mr. ‘ _Dark-and-Broody-and-No-Fun-At-All_ ’ – turns to him and says, absolutely deadpan and with perfect comic timing, “It’s not pink. It’s lightish red.”   

Shane cracks up; the bemused looks on the faces of Tori and Dustin and the faint despair on Blake’s just makes him laugh all the harder. Hunter’s own smile is a little unsure but pleased.

“Dude, what?” Dustin speaks for himself and the water ninja, who’s digging Blake in the ribs trying to get the navy ranger to explain. 

“You haven’t seen Red versus Blue?”/“It’s some stupid web show Hunter likes.”

The brothers speak as one and end up glaring at each other. Blake breaks eye contact first and Hunter chucks himself down in the armchair, dvd still in his grasp.

“It’s not stupid,” he insists, turning his blue eyes to Shane with a clear plea for him to back him up.

Shane responds by taking the dvd off him and putting the first disc in the player, knowing exactly what they’re all going to watch now. “It’s like my favourite show ever,” he confesses, with a grin at Hunter. “But you guys can judge for yourselves.”

He turns to find somewhere to sit, debating briefly between the sofa with Blake and Tori, or the spare beanbag. It’s not much of a choice, opting _not_ to join the couple, much to their relief and Shane’s comfort. Instead the air ninja drops onto the beanbag and finds himself leaning his back against what he thinks is the edge of the armchair but what in fact turns out to be Hunter’s legs. The crimson ranger doesn’t comment or try to move him, and Shane figures if Hunter doesn’t mind then he’s cool with it too.

The opening strands of _Blood Gulch_ begin to play, but it’s clear from the offset that Tori isn’t really interested. Or, she probably would have been but is distracted by Blake who has obviously sat through Hunter playing the series before. There’s giggling and whispering coming from the sofa and Shane resolutely does _not_ turn around, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen but, predictably, Hunter has less patience and reacts to the distraction by throwing a cushion firmly at the two of them.

There’s a yelp from Blake as the projectile finds its target and smacks into the side of his head. He twists around to glare at his brother. “ _Dude_ , seriously, what the hell?”

“I’m trying to watch the show,” Hunter complains. “You’re being annoying.”

“Pah,” Blake scoffs back. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it a bazillion times before; you can practically quote the whole thing word for word. Stop griping.”

The crimson ranger glares at his younger sibling. “Shut it, shorty. Or go find somewhere else to make-out with your girlfriend.” He pauses and shoots the blonde a quick look. “Sorry, Tor.”

“No worries,” she replies, lips curving up in a smile at the brothers’ bickering, just as Blake splutters indignantly.

“ _Shorty_ …? Hey bro, the 1980s called, they want their hair back,” the navy ranger snarks right back, causing Dustin to laugh.

As Hunter fires back an insult of his own (-“ _Dude, you know I’d never make fun of your height; I can’t stoop that low_ ”-) the air ninja scoots across the floor to pause the dvd. Shane is captivated by the rare insight into the Bradleys’ dynamics; despite clearly disagreeing the two keep the argument (if it can be called that) on amazingly friendly terms. Even the insults are intended to be humorous rather than mean; so very different to his own fights with his older brother. The dark haired teen would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit jealous at the Bradley’s closeness. His relationship with Porter is strained to the point of being non-existent – his sexuality ‘issues’ and his apparent shirking of responsibilities having earned the elder Clarke’s infinite disapproval.

Dragging his mind away from those less-than-pleasant recollections and focusing back on Blake and Hunter, he surmises that the real source of contention is the fact that Blake and Tori want to go off together but would have to take Hunter home first; otherwise they’d be leaving him stranded. The air ninja shakes his head at the group assumption that he’d somehow object to the crimson ranger remaining here with him.

“I’ll take you home, if you wanted to hang out here for a bit longer,” Shane offers, ignoring the looks of surprise on the other’s faces and instead keeping his focus on the blond.

For the first time ever, Hunter doesn’t shy away from the red ranger’s attempt at friendliness. Instead, he twists around to kick his legs over the arm of the chair and stretches out insolently.

“See, at least _someone_ appreciates my company,” he tells his brother with a smirk.

Blake rolls his eyes and ignores him, addressing his next comments to Shane, “Bro, you don’t have to put up with his antics, honestly. We can take him with us.”

The red ranger just laughs. “Nah, it’s all good. Besides, I just want the excuse to watch more Red versus Blue.” 

“That’s it; we’re doomed,” Blake announces, arm cast theatrically over his face. “They’ve _found something in common._ We’re in for it now.”

Dustin seems to agree with the younger thunder ninja. “Dudes, I think the world just, like, officially ended.”

“Are you two feeling okay?” Tori asks, eyes sparkling with mischief as she looks at the darker teen. “Should we be worried and-or checking for clones/magic spells/alien influences?”

Shane tries to act offended. “Hey, we’re both adults here. We can get along without it being some Lothor-conspiracy.”

“That’s what you _say_ …” Blake begins, but is prevented from continuing that line of though by another cushion lobbed in his direction by his older brother. He’s forced to duck, the projectile bouncing harmlessly off his shoulder. “Dude, _really_?”

Hunter just snickers triumphantly. “If you’re going, go; I want to watch tv with someone who has good taste in shows. Not you uncultured heathens.” He raises an arm lazily to protect his head from the cushion Blake chucks back at him. “Nice try, bro, but your skills need some work,” he adds with exaggerated casualness and Blake lets out an irritated sigh that Shane can relate to.

It’s one borne of frustration when older brothers get the better of you.

The two blue rangers depart and Dustin follows them out, remembering he has a shift at Storm Chargers to get to – “And dudes, Kelly’ll kill me for _sure_ if I’m not on time today.”

And then it’s just the two of them, alone, and Shane feels the slightest twinge of apprehension as he drops down onto the sofa; the series once again playing on the tv. Which is stupid and definitely shouldn’t be weird. After all, they’ve been fighting together for months now. They’re teammates; perhaps even friends. Or as close to being friends as the older Bradley gets with anyone.  

The air ninja glances across at the blond to find him transfixed by the action on the screen, watching the characters interact; one blue saying to another “… that guy Tex is really a robot, and you’re his boyfriend. So that makes you-”

“-a gay robot,” Hunter joins in with the onscreen dialogue, laughing.

 Shane finds himself laughing along with the enthusiasm the thunder ninja’s displaying. It’s rare, so very rare, to see Hunter so unguarded. He has a feeling it’s a side to the blond other people aren’t allowed to see and in a strange way he feels privileged, that Hunter is comfortable enough around him to let down some of his defences. He finds himself relaxing as this knowledge sinks in.

“So you really do know like, all the words to this then? I thought your brother was just exaggerating.”

Hunter runs a hand through his hair, faint colour gracing his cheeks. “I wouldn’t say _all_ the words. Just… some?”

The red ranger grins at him. “Hey, I’m not judging. It’s nice to find someone who likes this as much as I do.” He nods at the screen. “So who’s your favourite?”

Hunter pauses before answering and the air ninja expects him to say Church or Sarge; the leaders, the ones that are in control. But he doesn’t.

“York,” he says softly, and the dark haired teen starts in surprise. The blond raises an eyebrow at him. “Please tell me you weren’t thinking of Donut. Just because I made the lightish-red-armour joke…"

The red ranger sniggers. “Oh, so it wasn’t about _your_ uniform then-” He ducks as Hunter chucks a cushion at him (which seems to be the blond’s weapon of choice today) and then holds up his hands placatingly. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to pick York.” Shane chooses his next words tactfully. “He… doesn’t seem like the sort of person you’d put much stock in.”

There’s a strange, wistful sort of look on Hunter’s face as he answers, “I always respected him. Like, he’s this pretty awesome fighter but he’s also smart and philosophical and… sociable. He’s the type of guy that could get on with anyone and I guess… I guess he’s the sort of person I wanted to be. I think I envied him just a bit because he- because _I’m_ not like that.” He shakes off the hint of melancholy that’s fallen, giving Shane a small smile. “How about you? No wait, let me guess… Caboose?”

Shane laughs. “Caboose is a close second, but he’s not my favourite.” For some reason his cheeks feel hot as he admits, “… York’s mine too.” 

 “It’s because you think he’s cute right?”

The words are delivered with a half-smirk and Shane realises with pleasant surprise that Hunter is teasing him.

“No,” he replies, trying to come up with some clever retort but failing miserably because there’s something about Hunter’s smile that’s causing a strange sort of _twisting_ within him that he’d rather not think about. “No, it’s… I… Oh, hush you.”

He gives up with words and throws the cushion back at the crimson ranger, who snags it easily out of the air, smile widening. The blond seems to let some of his own curiosity out then, asking, “So how’d you hear of RvB?”

Shane shifts awkwardly at the question, Hunter oblivious to the personal can-of-worms he’s just unlocked. The red ranger is unsure if he wants to go down this route with the blond but then decides if anyone would understand, it would be the thunder ninja. He clears his throat. “An… ex… introduced it to me.”

The crimson ranger looks interested. “Oh? Boy ex or girl ex?”

“Boy. And in fairness he can hardly be called an ex. I guess it was an… experiment. He was a school friend and it didn’t last.”

“What happened?” The blond cuts himself off abruptly, a faint blush tinging his cheeks as he checks himself. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me; it’s none of my business.”

Shane shrugs, swallowing down the tinge of pain that threatens to flare up. It’s an old wound, but it can still ache. “There’s not much to tell.” He takes a breath. “He decided he was straight after all. I knew I wasn’t. We don’t talk anymore.” There’s a look of understanding on Hunter’s face, mixed with a hint – the smallest, almost imperceptible hint but a hint nonetheless – of pity which is just- He doesn’t want pity, least of all from Hunter, and decides to get away from the depressing part of it, finishing with fake cheerfulness, “On the plus side, I was left with his box set. Reckon it was worth it. So how about you? Don’t tell me an ex got you into it too.”

“No,” Hunter says, and Shane senses a change come over the blond almost immediately, the cheerfulness fading from his face and his blue eyes perceptibly darkening. “I haven’t… I don’t do relationships.” There’s some undefinable sentiment behind his words – sadness or hurt or apathy, Shane isn’t sure – as he adds, “I’m no good at them.”

 “Well colour me surprised.”

The air ninja shocks himself and has to double check; yup, those snarky words did indeed come out of his mouth. He winces and waits for Hunter’s reaction, sure it’s going to be negative; either anger or cold indifference.

But it’s neither. Instead the attempt at humour seems to get through to the blond, lifting Hunter’s mood up out of whatever dark place he’d strayed into.

“Wow, sarcasm. Didn’t think you knew what that was.”

“You’d be amazed at what I know,” Shane fires back, feeling a grin stretch across his face, the banter natural and unforced.    

Hunter grins at him. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”

And _there_ , just for a brief, passing moment, Shane senses a pressure to the air, a hint of promise and that little flutter in his stomach is back which _is not good_ and- _Beep. Beep._

 _…Saved by the bell_.

Shane raises his morpher to his mouth, dragging his mind firmly back into red ranger mode and away from… _What_? Seriously, he has enough on his plate with Lothor and school and saving the freaking world without developing some sort of teenaged crush on one of his teammates. Really _no_. As he listens to Cam update them on a situation downtown, he can see Hunter doing the same; all the mirth and light surrounding the blond fading away, leaving nothing but the professional crimson ranger in his place.

The samurai signs off and Hunter raises an eyebrow at the darker teen. “Fight time?”

Shane nods. “Looks like our day-off is over.”

Which is just, y’know, _typical_.

The fight itself is nothing special; predictable and, while no fight can ever be called easy, it’s not as bad as some. In the great scheme of things, it should have been perfectly forgettable. But that day sticks in Shane’s mind for other reasons, for what came before and because, looking back, it really _is_ the start of something.

It’s the start of the two men hanging out together a lot more.

It’s the start of a real, proper friendship; one born of mutual interests and a growing realisation that they do get on, that they _do_ like each other.

It’s the start of Shane’s attraction to Hunter.

Not that he truly realises it then. He’s got other things to focus on. But he can’t ignore the fact that he does genuinely enjoy the blond’s company and finds himself seeking reasons to spend time with him. If the crimson ranger is surprised by this sudden closeness, he doesn’t comment on it.

Strangely, its Shane’s little sister who provides the perfect excuse for the two of them to hang out more often. Tia is enamoured by Hunter and often demands he help her with her homework. Despite Shane reassuring the blond that he’s under no obligation to do as she says, the thunder ninja seems content to turn up at their house a few afternoons a week to hang out with Shane and give Tia a hand with whatever classwork she’s been assigned. It makes the red ranger laugh to see his normally hyper-active sister sitting happily with the blond, pouring over books and worksheets.

Shane finds himself coming to look forward to these afternoons and if he’s surprised at how quickly they’ve become the highlight of his week he doesn’t dwell on it. These rare moments calm, of peace, are to be enjoyed, not dissected.

It’s one of these strangely domestic afternoons that changes the dynamics of their relationship once more.

The three of them are sitting around a table set up in the tv room, books and pens scattered across the entire surface. Shane’s doing his own homework and has left Hunter dealing with Tia (and her American History worksheet; the blond knows a surprising number of amusing-yet-seemingly-useless facts about old presidents) when he glances up and notices his sister staring intently at the crimson ranger, as if she’s considering a particularly perplexing thought or idea.

He knows something odd or inappropriate is about to come out of her mouth, but he’s not expecting her to poke the blond in the ribs to get his attention and ask, very seriously, “Are you gay?”

“Tia!” Shane stares at his sister in shock, horrified. “You can’t just ask people things like that.”

His sister is completely unfazed. “Why not? _You_ are, though mom says it’s just a phase.”

As Hunter gives a snort of laughter, Shane covers his face with his hands. “Enough,” he almost begs and then jumps up, aiming for distraction techniques. “Who wants ice cream?”

As expected, Tianna’s instantly enthusiastic and excitedly voices her support of this plan. Hunter adds his quiet agreement, calm and apparently barely interested but Shane sees the blond’s eyes light up and he grins. He’d been surprised to discover the other man has a secret sweet tooth which he suspects isn’t indulged in nearly enough.

The dark haired teen hopes the promise of ice cream will have made his sister forget her fascination in Hunter’s sexuality, but there’s no such luck. As he exists the room he hears Tianna return to her previous line of questioning – “So _are_ you gay?” – and he swears under his breath, hurrying to grab the dessert from the freezer. He has to dash _back_ into the kitchen to collect some spoons too.  As he approaches the tv room he hears Tianna’s voice echo down the corridor, in full-on quiz mode.

“… Are you dating my brother?”

Shane lets out a groans but finds himself slowing down out of sheer curiosity, intrigued to hear the crimson ranger’s response.

It’s predictably unruffled; Hunter calmly replying to Tianna’s question as if they were discussing math homework. “No, we’re just friends.”

“But you’re always here.”

Hunter lets out a chuckle and Shane can picture the teasing look he’ll be wearing. “Well we’re _good_ friends.”

There’s a beat of silence as Tianna seems to consider the older man’s answer and apparently finds it wanting. “Do you _want_ to date him?”

Her words are filled with innocence and childish curiosity, but they cause Shane’s heart to leap into his mouth and for reasons that are definitely _not_ childish he’s suddenly desperate to know Hunter’s answer.

“Would you want me to?” The stress in Hunter’s voice hasn’t wavered as he turns the query back onto the little girl.

His sister replies with typical Tia-earnestness, “Yes because then you’ll be here, like, _all_ the time and when I’m grown up you can marry me instead.”

There’s a chocked laugh from Hunter and Shane decides he’s eavesdropped enough and re-enters the room in time to save the crimson ranger from further embarrassment.

“Ice cream,” he announces brightly, chucking the spoons down on the table just to make sure he gets their undivided attention.

The cold treat has the desired effect; instantly distracted, Tianna grabs a spoon and immediately scoops out a large helping.

The blond raises an eyebrow at her as he takes a much smaller amount. “You’ll give yourself a brain freeze,” he warns but she’s already shoved it in her mouth. He’s proved right as the dark haired girl winces and the thunder ninja grins, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He sticks his tongue out in response to the glare she gives him. “Told ya so.”

Shane joins in the laughter and shares a sideways glance with the other man; the odd, tingling sensation he sometimes gets in his stomach returning as he does so. He has to look away, eyes downcast in the pretence of returning to his own books, feeling heat in his cheeks and hoping Hunter hasn’t picked up on his sudden discomfort. 

The ice cream-distraction doesn’t last. As the last dregs are scrapped from the tub, Tianna bounces slightly in her chair and speaks around the spoon jammed in her mouth, “Hunter’s bi. He likes girls _and_ boys. Isn’t that cool?”

Shane doesn’t dare look at the crimson ranger, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on his homework. “Is that so?” he says lightly, allowing his sister to share her newest information.

“Yup,” Tianna replies enthusiastically. “He said-” she scrunches up her nose in concentration “-that he doesn’t date people just ‘cos they’re a boy or a girl. He says he likes them ‘cos of other things. Like if they get on real good. Or if they like the same stuff, like music and movies and sports. Or want to spend time together.”

“And what do you think of that?” her big brother asks, knowing she’ll want to discuss this topic further, as she does whenever she learns new things. Which he supposes isn’t a bad thing really.

“I think it’s awesome,” she says with a grin, tongue poking through the gap left by her missing front tooth – her first that’s fallen out, which she is insanely proud of. “I know boys can like boys because _you_ do but I didn’t know you were allowed to like both. Which is good ‘cos it doesn’t… uh… _limit your options_ ,” she finishes and Shane just knows she’s quoting the blond on that one. Tia, seemingly satisfied now she’s told her brother what she’s just leant, returns to her homework, dark curly head bent studiously over her worksheet, pencil clasped between in her small fingers pressing firmly onto the paper as she fills in her answers.

Hunter, a faint blush on his cheeks, speaks softly to Shane out of the corner of his mouth, “Sorry. She kept asking. Figured it would be okay to explain it.”

Shane smiles at him reassuringly. “It’s fine,” he replies in a similar low undertone, then pauses. “ _Date_?” He raises an eyebrow sceptically, remembering clearly the crimson ranger’s admission that he doesn’t ‘do’ relationships.  

Hunter gives him a wicked grin in return. “Thought I’d leave s-e-x out of it. I’m probably going to be in enough trouble with your mom as it is.” 

“That’s true,” Shane replies with a smirk, ignoring the faint twinge of anxiety the thought of his mom knowing Hunter’s sexuality brings. Well, it’s not like _they’re_ dating…

“I’m done,” Tianna announces loudly, closing her book and pushing herself back from the table. “Can we watch the film now?” Before Shane can even give a modicum of protest she juts out her lower lip. “Pleeeeeeeeease. You promised.”

As the red ranger opens his mouth Hunter chips in with, “You did promise her.”

Shane glances over to see the other man’s eyes sparkling with mirth. “Traitor,” he accuses but Tia is already jumping up and running out of the room with a giggle. The air ninja groans. “You do not realise what you have let us in for.”

“Us?”

The red ranger chucks a pencil at the blond. “Oh you’re not getting out of this. If I have to suffer so do you.”

Hunter rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest, instead beginning to collect together Tia’s workbooks into a slightly-less-messy pile. Shane starts packing away his own work and once they’ve finished clearing the table they make their way over to the sofa, dropping down onto it in sync, Hunter stretching out languidly as they make themselves comfortable. Shane turns his head to glance at the blond at the same moment Hunter raises his gaze to him and their eyes lock; Shane’s breath hitching in his chest and for one long, crazy moment he expects Hunter to lean in and kiss him.

 _He wants him to kiss him_.

He shifts slightly, angling his body towards the other man, trying to subtly let him know he’s not going to object, but unwilling to actually make the first move in case he’s wrong, in case he’s mistaken and he doesn’t want to ruin whatever this thing is they have going on at the moment. He thinks he sees Hunter’s eyes widen slightly in understanding and perhaps he’s about to move, about to lean in and-

“Here!” Tianna reappears in a whirlwind of energy, throwing herself in between the two men and dropping the dvd in Shane’s lap.

The darker teen manages a smile at his little sister, swallowing down the rush of endorphins currently flooding his body. He risks looking back at Hunter and their eyes meet over Tia’s curly hair, a strange expression on the thunder ninja’s face – worry? regret? disappointment? – that Shane can’t decipher. But there’s a small smile playing around Hunter’s lips which reassures the red ranger that whatever did or didn’t almost happen, the two men are still cool.

“So, what are we watching?” Hunter asks Tia as her brother puts the dvd in the player.

Tia grins. “Barbie, the Princess and the Pauper one,” she tells him and Shane sees the smile freeze for a second on Hunter’s face.

He drops back into his seat and reaches over his sister to gently punch the blond on the arm. “I told you, you didn’t realise what you were letting us in for.”

Hunter scowls at him but their bickering is cut off before it can properly begin by Tia flapping her hands at them both and hissing, “Shhhh it’s _starting_.”

The thunder ninja resorts to sticking his tongue out at Shane, who just grins back, relaxing into the cushions. As the opening scene begin to play on screen, there’s a dull thud in Shane’s chest as he realises that Hunter didn’t say no to Tia’s question about wanting to date him.

He wonders what that means. And then he wonders what he _wants_ that to mean.


	5. Part 4

The party is in full swing; a private mansion in the L.A. suburbs playing host to the annual end-of-race-season competitor get-together for the professional motocross community. The music is loud, bass pumping through the downstairs, and the alcohol is flowing; friends and fierce rivals putting aside their differences for one last night of fun before they return to their families for a well-deserved break.

The Factory Blue team are hanging out in a group on the sofas; the nearby table littered with empty beer bottles and discarded shot glasses. Blake, with a warm fuzzy alcoholic glow already surrounding him, is laughing at joke one of his friends has just cracked when another team-rider, Ric, stands up, demanding their undivided attention.

“A toast,” he calls out, pouring out shots for the gathered team. “To a great season, a rookie win for Blake and hopefully the start of many more next year. To Factory Blue!”

There’s a chorus of voices echoing his words and Blake knocks back the drink placed in front of him along with the others; the strong liqueur burning his throat as it goes down, making him cough.

Ric claps him on the back and laughs. “Dude, you’ll get used to it one day,” he says as Blake grimaces.

“So you keep telling me but I’m not convinced,” the thunder ninja retorts; a warming sensation spreading out from his stomach, relaxing his muscles and making his head spin slightly.

“There’s one cure for that,” another of the guys says. “More alcohol! Come on, Bradley, you can grab the next lot.”

This pronouncement is met by a cheer from the others and Blake stands with a laugh, holding his hands up in mock defeat, but just as he’s about to head over to the bar, his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out he waves it at his team mates, indicating he’s going to take it outside and ignoring the catcalls that follow him. They all know who’s ringing at this time of night.

Slipping out through the large glass doors into the garden, he walks a distance away from the house to escape the noise from inside, finding a covered arbour by the pool to sit and drawing a deep breath of the scented night air into his lungs in an attempt to sober up before answering. Finally he looks down at the phone in his hand, expecting to see Tori’s name flashing on the screen, but instead the display is showing a withheld number.

Puzzled he hits the answer button, adopting a professional tone. “Blake Bradley speaking.”

There’s no response and he has to pull the phone away to double check he has actually answered it, but the line is live. Returning the phone to his ear confused, he tries again, “Hello? Who’s there? Can you hear me?”

Hope leaps into his throat, sudden and desperate.

“Hunter, is that you?”

There’s still no reply on the other end but Blake is sure, so very sure, that it’s his brother. It has to be; there is no one else is could be and he just _knows_ he’s right. He wants to be right so badly.

“Please, if that’s you, say something. I’m not angry, I just want to know you’re okay,” he babbles. “Please Hunter; it’s been over six months. Please, please just talk to me. _Talk to me_.”

“Blake…” The voice that comes down the line is rough and quiet, but it’s definitely Hunter.

The racer’s fingers tighten around the phone in his hand, a surge of relief rushing through him. “Thank god, you’re alive,” he breathes. “You’re okay. You _are_ okay, right? Please tell me you’re okay.”

There’s a faint chuckle on the other end of the line before his brother replies. “Yeah, I’m fine. I-” A pause and a sharp intake of breath. “I’m okay.”

The most pressing concern accounted for, Blake’s head is suddenly swimming with unanswered questions; what’s and why’s and what-the-freaking-hell’s. He finally settles on the obvious. “Where are you?”

There’s a long pause before Hunter answers. “I’m safe. Don’t worry about me; you know I can take care of myself.” The bravado in his tone may be forced, but the reproval is definitely not faked. “How about you? League champion yet?”

And _there_ , there’s that fond teasing, that brotherly affection shining through, and it’s just so _Hunter_ that Blake feels a lump form in his throat and he can’t let the other man know because they love each other, they do, but they don’t… ‘do’ emotions; they don’t need to. They know they love each other; actually vocalising it just- It isn’t them; it isn’t their relationship.

He has to swallow hard before saying, “Not quite this year. Maybe next. I won Spring Creek though.”

“I know; I saw on the tv.”

There’s a trace of pride now in Hunter’s voice and Blake shuts his eyes, feeling the sting of heat behind his closed lids; a prickling sensation that only increases as he murmurs, “I wish you could have been there.”

He can still hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the enthusiastic slaps on the back his team mates had given him and he remembers staring out over the course and expecting any moment to see a pair of blue eyes – his brother’s eyes – staring back at him; holding on to a desperate, unfounded hope that maybe _this_ time, this track, would be the one to draw Hunter out of hiding and back to him. But it wasn’t. The whole of his rookie season was spent hoping his brother would turn up and now it’s over and Hunter… still isn’t back.    

There’s another pause, another moment stretching out into night, highlighting the distance, the gulf, that has opened up between them. And then-

“Why did you do it?” The words come out in a rush, unable to remain unspoken any longer. “Why did you run? Why didn’t you _tell_ me? You could have told me you were worried or having doubts or… or… Why didn’t you _trust_ me?”

He realises he’s breathing heavily, all the anger and frustration and all the _fear_ he’s been carrying around for the past six months exploding out in one raging torrent of words. He’s trembling, hands unsteady, and he has to force himself to calm down, relax his grip on the phone and just… breathe. There’s silence on the other end and it goes on for a painfully long time, making Blake wonder if he’s pushed too far too soon. He’s mentally cursing himself for losing control when Hunter finally answers him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Blake has to bite off a chocked laugh as his brother continues, “I just… It wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay. I had to get away, leave, before-” Hunter cuts himself off sharply, whatever he was about to say replaced with a simple, forlorn sounding, “I had to go.”

The younger Bradley shifts the phone across to his other ear, knowing he won’t get any further information out of Hunter if he doesn’t want to speak about it. Instead, he changes tactics. “When are you coming home? I miss you. We’ve all been missing you. Shane-” 

“I can’t Blake,” his brother whispers, voice barely audible across the miles the racer is sure is separating them.

“Hunter-”

“I _can’t_ Blake. Please, I can’t.”

And Blake is shocked to hear how broken and defeated Hunter sounds. The realisation that his brother might not always be the strong one, the one with all the answers, the one that’s always in control, cuts him to the bone.

“I- I’m sorry. Tell Sh- tell him I’m sorry,” and with that the line goes dead.

Slowly Blake lowers the phone from his ear and finds himself staring at it numbly, the blue light reflecting from the pool dancing and wavering over his skin.

 _Hunter phoned_ …

There’s relief, of course; it’s the most overriding emotion running through Blake right now. Relief that Hunter’s alive, that he’s okay and just hearing his voice again… Blake hadn’t really understood how deep his fear for his brother had ran until now. Being able to speak to him has lifted a weight off of him, an easing of the tension he’s been subconsciously carrying for months. And it feels good.

But underneath the relief there’s still concern, worry and sadness that Hunter still feels the need to stay away, that he’s not coming home. And there’s indecision too; what does he do now? How does he handle this news, this glint of hope however faint. As much as he loves his brother, and as much as he recognises the significance of Hunter getting in contact with him, of trusting him because they’re _family_ , it’s not just the two of them anymore. It hasn’t just been the two of them for a while now. Hunter’s actions have affected other people too and they deserve to know. Especially the person who cares more about the blond than Blake expected him to, and who’s been in pain ever since he left.   _He_ needs to know.   

Blake has to phone Shane. 


	6. Part 5

The boardwalk is deserted, devoid of its usual energetic crowd of beachgoers; the young families, screaming children, impromptu football players, surfers of all abilities, skateboarders and roller-bladers and elderly couples enjoying a stroll… all long gone. The lateness of the hour means most normal people have returned to their homes, abandoning the seafront to the restless, the sleepless, the suspicious, and the lonely. Tonight it seems even that group has been reduced to one; a solitary figure in red wandering aimlessly; the stillness of the night broken only by the intermittent breeze blowing in from the ocean and over the stretch of sand, carrying with it the smell of salt and seaweed.

Normal people… Shane’s got so used to thinking of himself as different, separate from everyone else in the world aside from his team mates, but that’s not as true anymore. Not now they’ve lost their ranger powers.

He supposes he should be happy. Proud, even. At the minimum he should be relieved. They did it; they defeated Lothor and saved the world. Not that anyone outside of the Academies will ever know but still, it has to count for something right?

But he doesn’t feel particularly happy, or proud, or even relived. Instead there’s a strange melancholy that’s been with him ever since the events of earlier in the day.

Graduation.

Where the six of ex-Power Rangers were cheered and clapped and celebrated; revered by former classmates and those in the years above alike. People who were their friends now looked up to them with respect and once again they were set apart, different. Shane found it unsettling.

He was honoured when Sensei Kanoi offered them the position of instructors. In some ways it gives him a way to reconcile who he _was_ to his ex-classmates with who he’s become.

Cam looked happy to be returning to his role as computer tech for the academy (though everyone knows he’ll be teaching samurai classes as soon as they find some students); Blake is giddy with excitement about joining Factory Blue and travelling the country and Hunter… seemed pleased enough when he announced he was taking up a teaching position of his own at the Thunder Academy.

Shane had offered his own congratulations along with the others, but his enthusiasm had been feigned; false and hollow, his stomach twisted in knots that left him feeling nauseous for some undefinable reason.

It was only later that he understood; that was the moment he realised everything had changed. That this had really ended.

“ _Every ending is just a new beginning_ ”; that’s what Sensei Kanoi says.

But if this new beginning means the end of friendships – _relationships_ – that he’s come to value and… love, Shane’s not so sure he wants it.

After the day’s events at the Academy finished, the six of them escaped to a quiet little restaurant for dinner; the last time they’re going to be altogether for a while. Blake’s leaving for Michigan in the morning to begin his pre-season training with Factory Blue and Hunter’s meant to take up his duties at the Thunder Academy… soon, Shane assumes. He hasn’t asked. Partially because he doesn’t want to know, and partially because he has no idea what to say to the blond. No idea what he _wants_ to say.

There had been a moment, at the very end of the evening as they were saying their goodbyes that Hunter had turned to him with a smile on his face – _that_ smile, the one that made him feel weak and strong and scared and happy all rolled into one ridiculous, straight-out-of-teenage-fiction package – and he’d wanted to say something, _felt_ like he should say something before it was all over, before this new beginning started. But he doesn’t. He can’t find the words to fully explain what he’s feeling and then the blond is turning away, a faint flash in his eyes that _might_ be disappointment but Shane isn’t sure and then the moment’s lost; the thunder ninja slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulders, the two of them leaving with Tori.

Dustin and Cam say their own farewells, going their separate ways and Shane… honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He feels restless, on edge; still expecting to come under attack at any second, faint surges of adrenaline shuddering through him at random times, for no real reason. A part of him refusing to believe Lothor’s gone, that the world is safe, and that their team is done; disbanded.

He wanders the streets of Blue Bay Harbour, watching the people going about their evening in innocent ignorance, none of them knowing who he is or what he’s done for them. He hovers between revelling in the anonymity and wanting to stand up and scream out the truth for all to hear. He doesn’t, of course, but he can’t deny the urge is there.

Eventually he tires of the bustle, of the crowds, and just needs to get away from it all – be alone – which is how he finds himself down by the beach, walking along the wooden planks of the boardwalk that separates the city from the sand, through the grains are already encroaching on the pathway, lodged in the cracks and gullies of the uneven surface.  

There’s a bench set facing out to sea and Shane drops down onto it heavily, listening to the distant roar of waves breaking on the shore and just lets his mind wander, flit from thought to thought without settling on any one in particular. He tries to relax, but the last year has made him wary of letting his guard down fully. Closing his eyes, he pushes down the faint hints of anxiety that try to rise in him, trying to let his body know it’s okay to let go of some of the control he’s held onto for so long and to just… be at peace.

But his solitude is abruptly ended.

“Hey.”

The voice is soft, tentative; as if the speaker isn’t sure his presence will be welcomed. But Shane has heard Hunter’s approach for the last minute; he knows it’s in some way deliberate on the part of the thunder ninja – the blond can move silently when he wants to – but there’s also some fragment of Shane that’s become attuned to his movements, that recognises the soft tread of his steps and the faint scene of _him_ , of sharp, tangy ozone and storm-driven rains.

The re- _ex_ -red ranger twists slightly to look up at the thunder ninja standing awkwardly to one side, hair ruffled by the light sea breeze.

Hey,” Shane replies, letting his confusion at the other man’s presence show on his face. He knows it’s late and was expecting everyone to have been in bed long ago, catching up on months – a year – of undisturbed rest. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Hunter shrugs one shoulder, moving around to join Shane on his bench. “I gave Tori and Blake the apartment for the evening. Figured they’d want some privacy and some time, ah, _together_ before he heads out.”

There’s a smirk on the blond’s face and Shane wrinkles his nose at the innuendo in mock-disgust. “Dude, she’s like my sister.”

“Sorry.” Hunter doesn’t sound at all abashed, the smirk widening into a grin and Shane rolls his eyes at him in response.

They fall into a companionable silence. Or rather what _should_ be a companionable silence but there’s this… tension between them; a slight, almost perceptible texture to the air and Shane wonders if Hunter feels it too. But when he looks over at the blond, Hunter is staring out across the beach, as if he can see the ocean that’s currently shrouded in darkness, far beyond the glow of the streetlights. His blue eyes are shadowed, pensive, resembling the man Shane first knew, the man he thought Hunter was before he joined the team; brooding and distant.

He suspects it’s because of his brother’s impending departure and wonders how badly he’ll get shot down if he voices those concerns. But then something he once read springs to mind; “ _all is in a man’s hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice…_ ” Screw it; it’s not as if he has anything to lose and besides, Hunter is here, with him. He found him. Maybe he was looking for… a friend.

“Are you okay with Blake going?”

He’s not sure Hunter’s going to answer him at first, but then the blond lets out a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” he replies and Shane’s struck by the raw honesty in his voice. “It’s always been the two of us, ever since, y’know. And I’m happy for him; I really am. This is what he’s always wanted to do, as much as I’ve disapproved of him doing it.” Shane looks surprised at that and Hunter gives a wan smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I love racing and I love that it’s been something we can share but I never wanted to do it professionally and I hoped… I suppose I hoped he’d go to college. Do what I never could. But it’s his life and his choice and I’m always going to support what makes him happy but…” he trails off and drags his fingers through his hair, his other hand clutching at the edge of the bench in the space between the two men, knuckles white with strain. “I guess I’m going to miss him.”

Those last words are spoken quietly, the barest hint of pain behind them which is virtually screaming aloud for Hunter.

Shane doesn’t think, just reaches out, covering Hunter’s hand with his and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. The thunder ninja is hurting and Shane… just wants to let him know he’s not alone, not if he doesn’t want to be. Wants to let him know he still has people who care about him. He has Shane-

He expects Hunter to pull away, brush off the attempt at comfort, but he doesn’t. Instead the blond twists his hand over so they’re palm-to-palm and slips his fingers between Shane’s, holding on lightly.

Shane glances down at their entwined fingers, a jolt of electricity running through him and he feels his cheeks heat, heart suddenly racing in his chest and a catch in his breathing. Looking up he meets Hunter’s eyes; the bright, brilliant blue drawing him in, a moment of expectation followed by a heightening of tension and he gives in, lets go of all the misgivings and reservations and doubts his brain has been throwing at him for months and just surrenders to the tide of emotions flooding his body. He leans forward, closing the gap between them and doing something he’s wanted to do for a long time.

Their lips meet, softly, ever so softly to begin with, but then Hunter responds, deepening the kiss and using their linked palms to pull Shane in tighter to him, his other hand moving up to cup the back of the air ninja’s neck and Shane shivers at the contact, a vivid awareness of his own body, of every muscle, every inch of skin, alive and tingling.

He’d be lying if he said he’d never dreamed about what it would be like to kiss the blond, but he hadn’t been expecting this; this passion, this warmth and openness and _honesty_ … If he could, he would marvel at the unequivocal trust the thunder ninja has put in him but all conscious thought ceased the moment Hunter’s mouth found his; the kiss the only thing he can focus on, all sparks and hot flashes and lightning and … and _oh_.

He can’t believe this is really happening. Is he dreaming? Has he fallen asleep on the bench and is going to wake in a few moments, alone and disappointed? But no, the grip on his hand and the pressure on his mouth tells him this is real, that Hunter is here and kissing him and it feels so _right_.

They’re forced to pause for air and Hunter murmurs against his mouth, “I don’t know what this is.”

“I don’t either,” Shane breathes. “But I don’t care; I like it.”

Hunter gives a throaty chuckle, his laughter reverberating through his chest and into Shane’s and then, to the air ninja’s immense displeasure, pulls away fully to look him in the eyes; a seriousness descending on the situation.

“Are you sure that you want to… do this with me? I mean, I’m all kinds of messed up and-”

Shane cuts him off there; pressing his lips firmly back onto the other man’s to stop him talking because, yes he’s pretty damn sure he wants to be doing this with Hunter, now, tomorrow; for as long as he can. The thunder sensei returns the kiss in full, but Shane knows this won’t be able to distract Hunter for long. Not long enough anyway. The blond loves answers and won’t be satisfied until the air ninja can reassure him this is what he wants. With reluctance he breaks the contact between them, his fingertips lightly coming to rest on Hunter’s cheek.

“I don’t know what this is,” he says, echoing Hunter’s words as he tries to bring his mind down from whatever dizzying echelons it’s currently inhabiting. “But I’d like to find out. I like you, Hunter. I have for a while now; I just never… I didn’t think you felt the same.”

And goddammit he’s blushing, and he knows he just shut up, stop speaking, because all this is going to scare Hunter off, make him run, but strangely the blond is still there, still grasping his hand and Shane takes courage from that to continue.

“You know, there was always something else going on, something more important and life-threatening to focus on so I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin what we had. Because when I was with you I could forget all the other stuff and just be, I dunno, normal?”

Hunter gives him a crooked smile. “You know we’re nowhere near normal, right?”

“Speak for yourself,” Shane retorts and there’s a lightness in his chest now, giddy happiness flooding through him, because Hunter’s _still_ here and he’s acting as if this is all fine and is just feel so... natural. “I don’t know what this is,” he hears himself repeating, making sure there can be no misunderstandings between the two of them. “And I know- I know you don’t do relationships but I’m willing to… give this- _us_ a chance, if you are?”

“Okay.” Hunter’s quiet agreement takes a moment to sink in and when it does Shane raises his head to see the blond watching him with a wry, amused expression. “What?” he asks, when the other man doesn’t immediately respond.

“I just… _Okay_? Is that all you’re going to say?” Shane exclaims and the thunder ninja laughs, pulling him back in close to give him a slow, lazy kiss that steals the breath from the dark haired man. The air ninja tries to tug away, shaking some of the lust from his brain, but the blond is persistent. “Uh uh, you can’t… You can’t use that against me-” Hunter’s mouth finds his again and oh, okay he _can_ because it feels amazing and _dammit_ , he’s not going to let the blond win this one. “What changed?” he manages to get out and Hunter pauses, drawing back to give him a serious but oddly tender look.

His blue eyes soft as he replies, “I figure now’s a time for new beginnings.”

Shane doesn’t have an answer to that and, as their lips find each other’s once again, he decides this is the sort of new beginning he can get on board with. 


	7. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick heads up for language and 'scenes of an adult nature' for this chapter. Nothing major but almost certainly PG-13. It is from Hunter's perspective after all!

Hunter never expected to find love in Blue Bay Harbour.

If he’s being honest, he’d never expected to find love full stop and was fully prepared to spend the rest of his life – however long that may be – alone. Kinda sad for someone so young but given all the shit that’s happened to him, everything he’s gone through, he figures he has the right to be bitter and jaded if he wants to be.

He’d never planned to spend long in Blue Bay. But the Bradleys’ original plan of ‘get in, get revenge, get out’ didn’t materialise, which in retrospect is a _good_ thing because if they’d been successful they’d probably have destroyed the world. Or helped it down that path at the very least.

Instead the plan becomes ‘hang around and make sure the Winds don’t accidently let Lothor win’. Despite Blake throwing himself into their new life, Hunter knows it isn’t meant to be permanent. It isn’t meant to last. It’s temporary; another stopping place before they move on again. That’s how Hunter views it anyway. It soon becomes apparent his brother has other ideas and, while the fate of Earth still hangs in the balance, the older Bradley is content to… not dissuade these notions. He has to concede Blue Bay isn’t a terrible place to stay, for a time. It’s not like he’s going to be here forever. And love definitely isn’t on the cards.

He certainly never expected the person he’d fall in love with would be Shane.

 _Shane_.

The leader. The teenage skater who somehow ended up in charge of Earth’s defenders. The guy Hunter clashed with more than anyone he’d ever met before. Who somehow became the guy Hunter allowed behind his defences, to get close to him. To get close enough to hurt him.

He doesn’t remember the exact moment his feelings towards the air ninja changed, but he recalls the moment he’d _noticed_ they’d changed vividly.

It was when they started running together.

They’d been running at the same _time_ for weeks, ever since Sensei Kanoi had made them compete in that stupid Total Trek to try and put an end to their vying for the team leadership.

And sure, Hunter knows how Ranger teams work, knows the history; the red guy is the leader and the Wind Rangers have been operating as a team _way_ before Blake and him showed up, no way are Tori and Dustin going to follow anyone else. And in fairness it’s the Bradleys joining _them_ , and without the probation they almost-certainly deserve so the blond should just suck it up and fall into line but there’s _ego_ involved and he’ll be damned if he’s just going to roll over without a fight. Especially for _him_.

And okay, Hunter can admit it now, he _was_ being a dick towards Shane but in his defence the red ranger _deserved_ it for being so _godammed_ annoying and forgiving and trying to be friends even though it’s pretty damn obvious the dark haired teen really doesn’t like Hunter. The blond doesn’t blame him for that; he just wishes he’d be _honest_ about his dislike instead of doing the whole ‘reaching out’ thing.   

But working together felt… good, he guesses. Winning as a pair… meant you had someone to share the joy with, someone else to celebrate with. It was nice, in a way (not that winning by himself wouldn’t have been, and he totally _could_ have beaten Shane, everyone knows it; they’re just playing Sensei’s little game, trying to prove to him and Shane that they can get on, work together without killing each other).

It wasn’t so much that they agreed to continue running together once the competition was over, rather they just didn’t stop. The morning after Total Trek Hunter turned up at their previous meeting point to find Shane waiting. Neither of them commented on it, or even really greeted each other; they just ran. And kept on running, every morning without fail.

But whatever the others might think (them of the knowing smiles and not-so-subtle nudges), they’re still not friends. Hunter’s not sure he even likes Shane all that much. Winning a competition does not get rid of all the other things the blond doesn’t like about the air ninja like… like… Well, to be honest, the only thing that Hunter really dislikes about Shane is the air ninja’s insistence on telling him what to do. It grates on him, to be treated like an amateur, a rookie, when he’s been commanding the thunder rangers for months (and yes, he knows that there’s only two of them, and that Blake would follow him no matter what, and yes, there was the whole ‘we-thought-you-guys-were-evil-so-we-blew-up-your-zords’ fiasco that _should not be mentioned_ but he was still in charge so it counts, dammit). Hunter isn’t stupid. He’d independent and self-reliant and he does _not_ appreciate being ordered around by a guy barely older than his brother.

It’s Blake that tells him to give Shane a break, to cut him some slack. “Bro, he’s okay, you know. He’ll make the right calls.”

Hunter grumbles that he doesn’t trust Shane to make those calls, not when it’s his little brother’s life at stake (and his own, and the whole damn world, but Blake is his number one priority, as always) but actually that’s not strictly true; Shane’s calls aren’t bad. The first few times the red ranger gets them out of scrapes Hunter’s more than willing to put it down to luck, but as one survived battle turns into many, the blond has to admit Blake may be right. Not out loud though. And he’ll never let Shane know.

The running kinda helps though. It gives them a… basis for discourse at least. Shane gets to learn how Hunter operates and Hunter learns how Shane thinks. They talk tactics, battle strategy and team dynamics, all the while keeping away from anything personal, because heaven forbid they actually get to know each other. That would be too weird.

Shane’s awkward revelation to Hunter about his sexuality surprises the blond. Not the fact Shane’s gay – Hunter’s the last person to be passing judgement on an individual’s choice of partner – but that he seemed to be so concerned about how Hunter would react, worried he was going to be disgusted, _expecting_ him to disapprove. He senses there’re some underlying issues here, perhaps disappointed parents or something, that’s made Shane wary so he figures the least he can do is make the air ninja feel more comfortable by letting him know about his own bisexuality.

It’s not like it’s a big deal to him; he came to terms with the fact he finds both men and women attractive many years ago. There was no big revelation or moment of realisation; he’d never seen sexuality as an ‘either-or’ sort of thing – as a binary; ‘men _or_ women’, ‘straight _or_ gay’ – but rather a sort of a sliding scale. Phrased as _degrees_ of human sexuality, Hunter happily inhabits the middle ground.

He’s aware he’s lucky in many respects; for him there was no trying to reconcile his attraction to men with notions of religious guilt, no feelings of shame or abnormality, no having to come out to his parents. Plus, he has the added benefit of not caring less about what others think of him. The only person he ever really had to tell was his brother and given everything they had been through together, by this point their relationship was not going to undergo some radical change just because Hunter slept with men. Compared to murdered parents and the struggle to make ends meet and worrying about where your next meal will come from, who you happen to find attractive really doesn’t enter into the grand scheme of things. Blake was – and still is – the only person Hunter feels he has to answer to, and Blake barely blinked. Everyone else can just go to hell.

Despite this improvement in the red rangers’ relationship (which is an understatement; a leap-and-bound in trust might be a better way to put it), there’s still a distance between the two men. It’s something Hunter can’t quite put his finger on, but then again, he doesn’t spend any time dwelling on it. The last thing he’s interested in is making any extra effort with his ‘leader’.

After all, it’s not like they have anything much in common.

But then the Red vs. Blue afternoon happens and Hunter sees a different side to Shane, fun and goofy and weirdly _similar_ to him, at least when it comes to humorous web shows about snarky soldiers. And more than that, he finds the other man surprisingly easy to talk to, and he’s sharing stuff with him before he fully realises what he’s doing. It’s… odd. But nice. Oddly nice.

He finds himself looking forward to their morning runs and, as their friendship develops, he can’t resist spending time with the air ninja. It’s a new sensation, to feel wanted. To have someone to spend time with now his brother’s dating Tori. Shane seems to like his company; he doesn’t discourage the blond from visiting and even if he’s not impressed his little sister is. So suck it, Blake; look who can make friends. She might be a small child but it totally counts.

Hunter doesn’t spend time analysing this change, this shift in dynamics; doesn’t attach any meaning or significance to it. It’s merely a distraction for him, a way to pass the time when he’s not working or racing or fighting aliens or trying not to die. It’s… convenient. That’s all. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. None of this – the hanging out and the getting on and the not wanting to kill him quite so much – means he _likes_ Shane. Not in _that_ way. Hunter’s not one to fall for a pretty face. Which, yes, okay, that does mean he finds Shane good-looking but there’s not harm in admitting that. It’s a fact; an objective truth. Shane’s got the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ thing down, that’s obvious, but there’s… something else there too. Maybe it’s the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or the way his black hair sticks up at funny angles after he demorphs, or maybe it’s the exasperated-but-strangely-fond looks he gives Hunter whenever the blond voices an (almost always unnecessary) objection to the leader’s newest battle plan or... Okay, so maybe that’s all subjective, but there _is_ something very… alluring about Shane and whatever it is, there’s nothing wrong in with Hunter acknowledging it, is there?

As long as he doesn’t get any ideas, or get attached, or _compromised_ … Everything’s fine.  

He realises he’s failed already when they start running together. Not just side-by-side but in step; legs and bodies moving in sync, perfect mirror-images of each other. It’s so… natural and unforced, even their breathing is coordinated and when Hunter glances over to check Shane’s pace their eyes meet, only for the briefest of moments but the blond suddenly feels like he’s been punched in the chest and… _oh fuck_.

As realisation finally breaks through the denial he’s been cultivating, Hunter’s foot catches on the corner of a raised paving slab that’s gone unnoticed due to his mind’s preoccupation. The blond stumbles sideways, knocking into Shane and they would probably both have fallen if not for the quick reflexes of the dark haired teen, who somehow manages to keep them both on their feet.

“Woah there,” Shane says, keeping a steadying hand on the thunder ninja’s arm as he gives him a look tinged with concern. “What was that? Are you okay?”

Hunter feels his face heat; totally because he’s embarrassed he almost fell over and not because the pressure of Shane’s hand on his arm is making his stomach do little flip-flops and his heart beat faster in a way that isn’t to do with the fact he’s been exercising.

“Someone needs to fix up the sidewalk,” he mutters, shaking free of the supporting grip as he struggles to get himself back under control.

Shane’s laughing at him now, brown eyes shining, and Hunter glowers at him, attempting to re-gather some of his lost dignity.

“Race you back to Ops,” he says, and then takes off in a dead sprint, partially to get away from Shane and partially to try and erase the sensations the other man’s presence is starting to kindle within him. It works… for a while at least.

Lying in bed that night, unable to sleep because of the thoughts dancing around his head, the blond tries to push down those- Not _feelings_ , because that sounds all teenaged and hormonal and melodramatic and Hunter doesn’t ‘do’ feelings… but maybe attraction? Yeah, Hunter can live with ‘attraction’. He shouldn’t even be considering his teammate in this way. It’ll just cause trouble and they don’t need that; the team’s just started to run smoothly and, despite himself, the blond’s beginning to feel a sort of kinship with this bunch of mismatched misfit. Not that he’s getting attached to them or anything. He just wants to make sure they don’t mess up the whole saving-the-world gig; someone’s got to keep them focused. He doesn’t _care_ about them.

And he’s sure, so very sure, Shane couldn’t possibly like him back. Just because he told him he was gay… It doesn’t _mean_ anything. Hell, Hunter was the last to know anyway. Shane probably didn’t want him to feel left out. Besides, the red ranger would be _stupid_ to like him back, which he isn’t, he _isn’t_ ; Shane’s smart and intelligent and witty and cute when he laughs and Hunter… Well, he knows he’s all kinds of messed up, that he has issues. It’s one of the reasons he’s never got close to anyone; never allowed anyone to get close to him. And he’s cool with that, well acquainted with disappointment and how sucky life can be.

Hunter Bradley is used to not getting what he wants.

And yet, there are little signs, hints, that he might be wrong; that Shane may indeed be harbouring some feel- _an attraction_ of his own towards the blond. It’s the way Hunter catches Shane smiling at him when he thinks the crimson ranger isn’t looking. It’s the small, unnecessary touches for no real reason. It’s the flimsy excuses he makes to spend time with the blond. It’s letting him into his home, his _life_ , so easily.

It’s the look in his eyes the afternoon that Hunter had almost given in to the urge and kissed the younger man. It hadn’t been one of concern or worry, more… disappointment, like he’d _wanted_ Hunter to kiss him, had been waiting for it, and if Tia hadn’t interrupted them at that moment Hunter wonders what would have happened.

Going against all his cold logic, against every bit of sense telling him not to, the blond allows a tiny flame of hope to ignite in his chest; hope that perhaps his burgeoning feelings towards the other man aren’t as unrequited as he thought.

But there’s no time to really explore this idea further, or indeed act on anything that may or may not be between them, because the Power Rangers thing is kinda a big deal and there’s just too much at stake to risk him being wrong and cause strife within the team. Or worse, a distraction. Personal relationships have to take a backseat when you’re fighting for the survival of Earth.

He suspects their leader has the same reservations, so he carries on as normal, ignoring his attraction to Shane, pushing it down and pretending it doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t matter. It’s harder than in should be, but Hunter is damn good at keeping his emotions in check; fear, anger, pain, lust… All can be controlled if you try, and Hunter’s had a lot of practice. 

He doesn’t see the end coming. None of them do. But suddenly it’s done, mission complete. Lothor is defeated, gone; Earth is saved; the Academies are back where they belong and they’re free. Finished.

And nothing is ever going to be the same.

Hunter’s not one to dwell on the past, but even he has to acknowledge the twinge of sadness that comes with all the joy of graduation. Somehow during all the fighting and training and just always being there, the group has wiggled their way past most, not all, of Hunter’s carefully constructed barriers until he can no longer deny the affection he has for them. And he’s going to miss them, he knows it.

He’s going to miss Dustin’s cheerful enthusiasm, Tori’s wonderfully calming presence, Cam’s dry humour and even his grumbling.

 _He’s going to miss seeing Shane every day_.

He thought the air ninja would say something to him, give some recognition of the time they’ve been spending together at the very least; possibly give an indication that he wants their friendship to continue. He’s not expecting a declaration of love or anything so melodramatic (because he’d totally have run a mile should that have happened) but he’d been hoping for _something_.

But the evening draws to a close without a word being spoken of it – of _them_ – and Hunter swallows down the disappointment, mentally chiding himself for reading more into a situation than is actually there.

He leaves the restaurant with Blake and Tori, but doesn’t stay with them for too long, electing to give them the apartment to themselves. He doesn’t begrudge his brother for it, but it’s disquieting, knowing that somewhere along the road someone else has become the most important person in Blake’s life. And although both him and Tori made it clear they didn’t mind Hunter being there, didn’t want to push him out or make him feel unwanted, he knows they really need some time together. For _whatever_ reason – again, who is he to judge what two consenting adults get up to?  It’s not as if he’s a virgin. As long as they’re safe (yup, he’s had _that_ conversation with Blake; no, he doesn’t ever want to have to repeat it) because he’s too young to be an uncle.

Hunter doesn’t mind leaving them to it, not much.

Being outside, by himself, gives him time to clear his own head.

He’s always known Blake would leave one day. His little brother’s always talked of joining a racing team and travelling the country, though Blake always seemed to assume it would be the two of them, together. But Hunter knew better; knows his brother has more passion and more drive to succeed than he does and, as loathe as he is to admit it, Blake’s- not the _better_ rider (because there’s pride at stake here and Hunter would like to make it clear he can still teach his brother a lesson or two) but his riding style – impulsive and fiery compared to Hunter’s cool logic – is more… suited to competitive racing. Blake’ll be good, be successful, while Hunter’s only ever wanted to race for fun.

Hunter knows all that and yet he still can’t grasp that his brother – his little brother who he’s looked after and cared for and grumbled at and been responsible for since their parents were cruelly killed in front of them (and yes, Hunter still has nightmares about that; thank you for reminding him how fucked up his life has been) – is heading out into the big wide world alone. Without him. They haven’t spent more than a day or more apart since… since _ever_. Which probably isn’t healthy; the words ‘dangerously co-dependent’ are hovering on the edge of his consciousness but he ignores them.

He’s walking down the boardwalk, enjoying the fresh, salty sea breeze that’s blowing in from the ocean, when he sees a familiar figure sitting alone on a bench. He wonders if he should go and speak to Shane, or leave him in peace. He’s about to turn away, when he’s seized by an irrational desire, a sudden yearning to not be alone. He’s so sick of being alone. And maybe… maybe Shane is too. Is it so wrong, to want… someone?  

He pauses, torn with indecision.

 _What if he’s wrong_?

Does he dare risk opening himself up to possible pain and rejection? Does he let someone in, when it’s the people closest to you that have the power to hurt you the most? Is he strong enough to put himself through that again? He must be stupid to be even considering this and yet…

 _Every ending is a new beginning_ …

What does he really have to lose?

Nothing, not now the ranger part of their lives is over. 

Him admitting to Shane he likes him isn’t going to cause the destruction of the world. Probably. The worst that could happen is Shane never wants to see him again and Hunter’s pretty sure the air ninja’s not that malicious. Unless he _really_ messes this up.

Which obviously he doesn’t because there’s a bit of talking followed by a lot of kissing (which, for the record, is _good_ ) and then, suddenly, they’re a “they”; a couple, _together_ , which might have freaked Hunter out more if it wasn’t for the fact he’s not sure how he’d have got through those first few weeks without Blake if it hadn’t been for Shane.

The air ninja is amazing, a steady, grounding presence without being suffocating. Somehow he manages to know when Hunter needs space, and when the blond actually needs someone to be there, to distract him from his thoughts and empty apartment. There’s no pressure, no deep discussions or mentions of their relationship developing into anything other than what it currently is. There’s just time spent together, hanging out and, apart from the kissing part, not much changes.

As the weeks pass, Hunter is struck with an irrational feeling of guilt, unable to stop himself wondering if he is just using Shane to distract himself from missing his brother. Are his feelings (and yes, Hunter realises the absurdity of him even acknowledging he _has_ those; let’s not make a big deal out of it because it’s _not a big deal_ , okay?) towards the air sensei anything more than lust? Is he really so damaged that he can’t tell the difference? Well, _clearly_.

These worries keep niggling at him and he starts to wonder what Shane’s getting from this… relationship. Is Hunter being fair on the other man, keeping this _thing_ they have going for selfish reasons; for the fact that he’d miss it – whatever ‘it’ is – if it ended?

He doesn’t even know what the air ninja’s thoughts on their relationship actually are. It’s not like they’ve talked about them since the night they got together. And sure, Shane _said_ some pretty nice things then but that was before he tried dating Hunter. The blond is under no allusions; he isn’t exactly the easiest person to get close to, even when he _is_ trying. Maybe their mutual reluctance to acknowledge the fact they’re a couple in public is a sign neither of them have much invested in the relationship.

All these thoughts make him doubt not only himself and his own intentions, but Shane’s too. Because honestly? He can’t see what the air sensei is getting out of this thing. So when Blake phones him last-minute to say he’s not going to make it back in time for Christmas Day – something about snow in Michigan playing havoc with flights – Hunter swallows down his disappointment and keeps quiet.

It’s not like he’s actually been looking forward to the holidays this year or seeing his little brother or anything. Because that would mean he cared, and he doesn’t. Nope, Christmas alone is just another day.

He doesn’t tell Shane. Hunter figures that whatever there is between the two of them, he’s not going to ruin the other man’s family time by making Shane worry about him being by himself.

So the blond stocks up on take-away and microwave meals (because he’ll be damned if he’s going to spend his time off cooking just for one) and happily holes himself up in his apartment, perfectly content in his solitude. If he stuffs the Christmas tree out of sight behind the sofa in a fit of pique, well, he’s angry at his brother, not sad at being alone. Who needs family anyway? Families _suck_.

The day dawns just like any other, California’s winter sunshine still bright outside the apartment’s windows, and that’s exactly how Hunter treats it. He does nothing different, nothing special, except shy away from typical array of seasonal movies plastered across every tv channel. Instead he seeks relief in a box set of True Blood that Shane’s lent him and loses himself in trashy vampire romances (that are _nothing like Twilight_ , just for the record). As days alone go, it’s not bad.

Just as he’s beginning to think he’s gotten away with it – done good – 5pm arrives and brings with it a knock at the door. Opening it, Hunter comes face-to-face with an irate air ninja.

It’s only after Shane finishes cursing at him – for being so damn _stupid_ for not letting him know that he was going to be alone and how he didn’t like having to find out these things from Tori who’d found out from Blake and then phoned him (because although she hadn’t said in as many words both men were pretty sure she knew what was going on between them because she was Tori, the very definition of female intuition) and- _did-he-mention-Hunter-was- **stupid**? –_ does the dark-haired teen dump a box into his arms and stride past him into the apartment.

Hunter trails in after him and finds Shane standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene. As his eyes take in the discarded take-away cartons, random items of clothing and motorcycle parts scattered about and the conspicuous lack of decorations the look on his face says it all; disapproval with just a hint of… sadness?

“Where’s your tree?”

Shane’s voice is brusque and Hunter gestures vaguely to the corner behind the sofa where he’s stuffed the rather pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree. Limp branches missing their needles wrapped with a single tatted piece of silver tinsel and a couple of chipped baubles, paint flaking away to reveal cheap glass underneath.

“Blake normally does the decorating,” the blond says in an effort to justify himself to the other man, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Shane doesn’t say anything for long moment, then turns to Hunter with a bright smile, no trace of his earlier annoyance remaining. “Could be worse I guess,” he says lightly before adding, “Pass me the box?”

Hunter does as he’s told.

When he gets back from retrieving the cardboard container from where he’d dumped it on the kitchen counter, the thunder ninja finds the younger man busy rearranging the living room; take-away containers shoved to one side, sofas pushed back slightly to make a space where he’s chucked down a blanket and some cushions. He’s even, the blond notes with indifference, pulled the bedraggled little tree out of its hiding place and tried to smarten it up some, with little success.

Shane looks up as he returns, gesturing to the box in his hands.

“Open it,” he says, a smile wanting to spread across his face but he’s holding it back, a hint of apprehension behind his cheerful façade.

Setting the box gingerly down on the carpet, he lifts up the flaps and stares at its contents, strange emotions rolling through him.

“Figured you wouldn’t have had a proper dinner today,” Shane remarks as the blond pulls out some tupperware containers. “Mom always gets in too much for us, so I thought we could have a sort of, indoor picnic Christmas dinner.”

He keeps his voice light but Hunter is painfully aware of the trepidation apparent in the darker man’s attitude, as if Shane’s expecting a negative response. Hunter frowns, trying to get a read on the air sensei’s intentions, then his heart sinks as he realises Shane is waiting for him to yell or chuck him out or dismiss his attempt at… at…

… _caring_.

There’s a sudden rush of emotion running through Hunter, a jumble of fear and joy and weird relief as he understands at last; he gets it. He’s probably known it for a while but it’s taken him a stupidly long time to admit it, to accept that Shane _does_ care for him and that maybe, just _maybe_ , this ‘thing’ is a little more serious than he’s been giving it credit for.

Impulsively he leans over to give Shane a quick, firm kiss on the lips.

“What was that for?” the dark haired man asks, some of the worry he’d been carrying visibly leaving him. “Not that I’m complaining or anything…”

Hunter laughs and kisses him again. “Just, thank you, I guess. And sorry, for being an idiot.”

Shane grins back at him, giving his hand a squeeze, brown eyes soft. There’s a pause, a moment of expectation where Hunter thinks he should have kissed the air ninja again but then Shane’s turning away to pull a couple of dvds out of the box.

“Right,” he says, holding them up for Hunter to see. “You have a choice: ‘Hook’ or ‘Miracle on 34th Street’?”

“Uh… Hook?” Hunter suggests. He has an aversion to cheesy family holiday movies. The whole ‘perfect family’ theme is a little hard to swallow when it’s just you and your little brother huddled down in some dive of a room, trying to forget everything you’ve lost.  

By the widening of the grin on Shane’s face Hunter knows it’s the right answer. They settle down on the cushions, close to each other but not quite touching, and tuck into the leftover Christmas dinner as the opening of Hook starts playing across the screen.

After the food’s gone, the focus on the movie doesn’t last. Sly nudges turn into little kisses which turn into _bigger_ kisses; the sort that leave Hunter breathless and dizzy and definitely wanting more. His fingers slide under the hem of Shane’s shirt, brushing against the smooth, tight muscles of the other man’s back and eliciting a groan from the air ninja, his breath hot against the blond’s mouth. Shane pushes his body into Hunter’s, deepening the kiss and twisting his fingers into Hunter’s hair, the playful atmosphere changing into one much more… charged, more serious and _intense_.

They haven’t really discussed taking their relationship beyond kissing and Hunter hasn’t pushed his less-experienced partner. The last thing he wants to do is take advantage of Shane, to play on his naivety and abuse his trust and this, right here, this is doing exactly that.

 _He can’t do this_.

As if sensing the thunder ninja’s hesitation, Shane draws back slightly, face flushed and eyes shining, pupils dilated. Tilting his head to one side, the air sensei smiles at the blond. “Stop thinking,” he orders, ducking back in to recapture Hunter’s lips with his.

The older man pulls back, hand gently pressed against Shane’s cheek, holding him back. “Shane…” He tries to shake off the fog of desire that’s descended, his head spinning from the rush of adrenaline flooding his body as he fights for clarity.

“I want this,” Shane states, voice husky as reaches up to take Hunter’s hand in his, meeting his gaze. “Do you?”

“Yes but-”

He’s cut off as Shane grabs Hunter’s other hand, their fingers entwining together as he’s pushed back onto the floor, the other man using their linked palms to pin Hunter’s arms above his head and straddling his hips. “Then… Stop. Thinking,” Shane growls, grinning down at the blond.

Hunter makes a half-hearted attempt to twist out from under him, t-shirt riding up and the words ‘rush’ and ‘you’ flitter vaguely across his consciousness but are lost, forgotten, as Shane leans down to press his mouth firmly against his, tongue sliding between his lips, fingers running across the exposed skin of the thunder ninja’s stomach, fiery lines following his touch, and Hunter… gives in because this… this feels amazing. It’s sparks and electricity and… _wow_. Okay, Hunter’s been intimate with other people before but it hasn’t… it hasn’t been like _this_. He’s never _felt_ like this.

This just feels so natural and so right (- _so, **so**_ _right_ -) and all his fears, all his worries fade away as their hands start to explore each other’s bodies, learning and testing and… “ _Dammit_ ,” Hunter breathes, causing his partner to pull back, confused. “Too many clothes,” he complains, levering himself up into a seated position with Shane still straddling him and tugging insistently on the air sensei’s shirt.

The darker man gives a low chuckle, raising his arms to allow Hunter to pull his top over his head, and then he’s unbuttoning the blond’s shirt, fingers clumsy with lust. As the garment falls open, the thunder ninja shrugs it off one arm at a time, the other pressed into Shane’s lower back, minimising the distance between their bodies, lips never leaving each other.

Shane switches tactics, trailing hot kisses down Hunter’s neck and over his collarbone, making the blond gasp, eyes shutting involuntarily at the sensations the air ninja is invoking in him. Thoughts dissolving into a swirling, melting mess of incoherency.

“Ahem.”

Hunter’s eyes snap open at the embarrassed cough that comes from somewhere near the front door; the unexpected noise causing the two men to spring apart, turning as one to face the source of the interruption.

Seeing who the intruder is, Hunter snatches up his shirt from the floor, turning a deep shade of crimson. “Shit, Blake. Haven’t you heard of knocking? What the hell are you doing here?”

The younger Bradley brother averts his eyes as they get dressed. “Merry Christmas to you too, bro.” He risks a glance back to check they’re decent and gives a small wave. “Hi, Shane.”

“Hey,” Shane greets the other thunder ninja, sounding half-mortified, half-amused.

Hunter finishes doing up the buttons on his top and crosses the room to give his brother an awkward hug. “So what _are_ you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you or anything,” he adds hurriedly. “I just wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Clearly,” Blake replies, a laugh in his voice and humour dancing behind his brown eyes. “Managed to get a flight after all. Thought I’d surprise you. Remind me not to do that again.” He glances between the two men, grinning. “So… this is new?”

“You didn’t tell him?”

Hunter shifts awkwardly, rubbing a hand over his face, hearing the disappointment in Shane’s voice.

“… No?”

He angles his body towards his brother so he can avoid looking at the air ninja, unable to meet his gaze. “You were busy,” he says to Blake with a huff. “And we were… taking things slowly. I didn’t know what _this-_ ” He gestures vaguely in Shane’s direction “-was and I didn’t want to spring a boyfriend on you when we- when _I_ wasn’t sure that’s where things were really going.”

Blake nods, gaze shifting from Hunter to Shane and back again. “Well, it looks like things are going pretty well from what I saw.” There’s a smirk playing on his lips and Hunter flushes red, studiously not looking at Shane.

“Yeah,” the blond says, risking a small smile at the memory before deciding to go on the offensive. “Well, it _was_ until you walked in. Bro, talk about ruining the mood.”

The shorter teen laughs, shaking his head. “Well if you’d _told_ me about your boyfriend I’d have been a little more careful when opening the door, wouldn’t I?” He gives Shane a wink and Hunter knows immediately that his little brother more than approves of their relationship. “I’m so glad my room isn’t right next to yours,” he adds, heading for his bedroom to dump his bags.

As Blake disappears, Shane turns to the thunder ninja, hands on hips and an unreadable expression on his face.

“So I’m your boyfriend then?” he asks, no trace of inflection in his voice.

A sudden fear spikes in Hunter. What if he’s read this all wrong after all? What if Shane doesn’t see this going anywhere? What if it _is_ just casual?

“Uh, maybe?” he mutters, eyes fixed firmly on a point on the floor, waiting for the rejection he’s sure is coming.

Instead one soft hand reaches up to raise his chin, forcing him to look at Shane and one look at the air ninja’s face is enough to dispel his worries. Shane’s beaming at him, eyes dancing with life and mischief and just… joy.

“If I’m yours, you’re mine,” he says, tenderness and promise in his voice; his thumb brushing against Hunter’s lower lip, sending shivers running down his spine. The blond can’t resist leaning back in to capture the other man’s soft lips with his, feeling Shane’s hands come to rest on his waist, pulling him in close and-

“Ugh dudes, you’re not going to be doing that _every_ time I turn my back are you? Oh Hook!” Blake finishes, catching sight of the forgotten movie still playing on the tv.

The two men break apart once again, heat rising in Hunter’s cheeks as he turns to his brother. “Well now you know how we all felt when you and Tori first got together,” he tells him tartly and Blake laughs.

“Whatever makes you happy, bro,” the younger Bradley says blithely, attention focused on the screen. “So… are we going to restart the movie or what? I bet you guys didn’t see much of it,” he adds, sticking his tongue out.

Hunter sees Shane turn red and he punches his little brother on the arm fondly. “Hush you. You can have the floor for that.”

“Pssh, I wouldn’t _want_ to sit on the sofa with you two anyway,” Blake retorts, already fiddling with the dvd player.

As Hunter and Shane drop onto the sofa, the ex-navy ranger settles himself on the cushions at their feet, leaning back against his brother’s legs. Hunter gives him a prod in the back with his foot but Blake appears oblivious and the blond concedes defeat, letting him remain. As the film starts again from the beginning, Hunter feels Shane lean into him and he can’t resist sneaking an arm around the air ninja’s shoulder, drawing him against his chest. When Shane reaches up to interlock his fingers with the blond’s, and with his brother’s weight resting against his shins, Hunter is struck by a feeling of rightness, of family, of _home_.

He decides this must be what happiness feels like.

They attend the Wind Academy’s New Year’s Eve party together; their first official outing as a couple. No one blinks an eye. Perhaps, Hunter has to concede, they hadn’t been as sneaky and clandestine about their relationship as they’d thought.

It’s as they see in the New Year together – Shane standing behind him, his strong arms wrapped around his waist and his chin resting on Hunter’s shoulder, warm breath tickling the blond’s neck, with fireworks exploding overhead, turning the night sky alive with colour and light – that Hunter allows the fragile flicker of hope he’s been clinging onto, that tiny flame, to burst into life. It’s a new year, a new beginning, and perhaps a chance to, not erase the past, but leave it behind. Finally move on with his life.

Leaning contentedly back into his boyfriend’s embrace, Hunter can’t remember ever feeling so happy. Clichéd it may be, but for the first time ever he starts to believe that he has a future, and that future will be shared with someone.


	8. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of quick notes about this chapter:
> 
> \- Maria and language: I didn't want to rely on stereotypes but I love words and language so the chance to throw in some Mexican-American/New Mexican slang (after a bit of research) was just too tempting an opportunity for me to pass up. I apologise unreservedly for any mistakes I may have made.
> 
> \- American Football: I know nothing. Nada. I didn't even realise the offence and the defence were technically two different teams/not on the pitch at the same time until I saw my first Superbowl (and even then I only made it to the half-time show; in my defence it was 3am over here by that time and I had work at 9am!) so if I got anything wrong, blame Google.
> 
> Enjoy!

Maria still remembers the day the stranger arrived in Santa Luca.

In all other respects it’s a day indistinguishable from many others; hot and still and quiet. The suffocating dry heat of summer has come early to New Mexico, the fiery sun scorching away the spring blooms, withering the flowers that normally carpet the hills at this time of year and prematurely returning the desert to its barren state.

The motel reception is a tiny office stuck awkwardly onto the end of the flat-roofed two story building that encloses three sides of a square of cracked tarmac. The main desk is a solid, wooden affair but low enough that the Hispanic woman behind it can prop her feet up on it as she leans back in her chair, book in hand; the late afternoon sun shining brightly through the windows and pooling on the floor, bathing the office in a golden glow. It’s hot. Horrifically hot, and Maria casts a baleful eye at the fan creaking slowly around on the ceiling, sluggishly moving the air about the room with little effect. A fly buzzes up lazily to join it, its dull drone only adding to the soporific mood of the day. Eyelids feeling heavy, she manages to return her attention to the book, immersing herself once again in another world.

Her peace is suddenly disturbed by the roar of a motorbike pulling up in the lot and a tall, well-built figure in leathers dismounts, tugging off his helmet to reveal a shock of blond hair. He shifts his grip on the helmet, holding it loosely in one hand as he makes his way to across to the office. The bell clanks jarringly as he enters and Maria drops her book onto the desk, standing to greet the visitor.

She’s met by a pair of shadowed blue eyes that she instantly knows have seen too much.

As out of the way as Santa Luca is, they do get all sorts passing through. Truckers mostly; gruff men and women going about their job with a bored practicality. There are the regulars, the hikers that arrive in the early spring and late autumn each year to walk the trails that zig-zag around this area of the New Mexican desert, returning year-on-year in small groups from clubs around the country, although the hiking season has come to a premature end with the unusually soon onset of the summer heat.

And then there are the drifters; the perpetual wanderers who move from place to place, never settling. Restless and weary, only staying for a night or two at the most before returning to the open road without a purpose or a destination. Maria’s used to these transient visitors, used to the haunted looks in their eyes and their guarded demeanours. She figures this man’s just another drifter; nothing special, nothing different.

“Can I help?”

The young man runs a hand through his damp, helmet-flattened hair, rivulets of sweat tracking lines through the dust on his face as he answers her. “I was hoping for a room.  Do you have any free?”

Maria smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. “Only most of them. Not really the time of year for travellers here. Where’re you from?”

“West.”

His answer is short and brusque, and while he’s not being out-right unfriendly he’s not exactly attempting to endear himself to her either. It’s clear from his attitude he doesn’t want to talk, and she knows it’s not her place to pry, but the stranger’s deliberate vagueness is irritating. Maria can’t bear infuriating people. Casually she says, “We don’t get many folks from Cali out this way.”

The blond tries to mask his surprise. He’s good; Maria only notices the barest flicker in his eyes that confirms her hunch is right. There’s something very… disciplined about his reactions, as if he’s used to hiding his emotions, revealing nothing. It’s intriguing.

“… How’d you know I’m from California?”

Maria can’t help but laugh at impressed tone in his voice. “Oh _mijo_ , there’s not much west of here but desert and you’re not a desert boy. I can pretty much see the ocean in you. Am I wrong?”

The stranger seems to relax at that, a grin stealing across his face and making him suddenly look so much younger, barely older than her own children. Maria rethinks her estimation of him; there’s something dangerous about the blond but she’s pretty sure he’s not a threat. Not to her. She’s seen her fair share of criminals passing through and while she’s almost certain he’s running from something she doesn’t think it’s the police. It’s not _that_ sort of danger; it’s something more familiar to her…

She pegs him as military and half wonders if he’s some sort of deserter.

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he says, rubbing a dirt-streaked hand over his eyes and Maria is struck by how tired he looks.

She reckons he’s been on the road a while and tempers her tone. “So Cali-boy, what do I call you?” she asks with gentle teasing.   

The grin fades slightly, turning sad and almost bitter. “I- York. Just call me York.”

Maria decides not to push him, writing down his blatant lie on the checking in slip without comment. “Well York, welcome to Santa Luca. How long you planning on staying?”

The stranger – York – shrugs. “Just the night I guess.” He fumbles in his jacket pocket and pulls out some tattered notes, counting out the cost of the room. Maria can’t help but notice how few bills remain as he tucks them carefully away again.

He sees her staring and his brow furrows. The greying woman returns her eyes to his face and puts on a bright smile. “If you want to follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

Without waiting for an answer, she breezes past him out into the lot, the heat dissipating slightly as evening starts to fall.  The sun has dipped low over the western horizon, a vanishing sliver of molten yellow painting bands of burnished gold and red fire across the sky; the first few stars just about visible in the deepening twilight. 

The blond man pads after her, backpack thrown carelessly over one shoulder, as she leads him down the side of the motel, passed the first few rooms cast in shade thanks to the walkway above the.

“These bottom few here are for our permanent residents,” she tells him; a quick glance over her shoulder revealing he is indeed behind her. She’s impressed by how quietly he moves for someone so tall and her opinion about him being military is reinforced. There’s something very exact and controlled about his movements, no energy wasted on unnecessary motion or gestures.  

“Permanent residents?” he asks, moving up to walk beside her. She’s surprised; it’s the first interest he’s shown in the area since he arrived.

She gives him a sideways look. “Times are tough, ‘specially out here. Folks lose their homes, can’t afford rent… Motel’s a roof over their heads at least.”

She expects him to just shrug this statement off, keep the indifference on his face but he doesn’t. Not quite. For a moment there’s a strange _knowing_ expression there, not exactly pity but definitely… understanding? Empathy? She guesses he’s no stranger to poverty.

They leave the relative coolness of the shade, crossing the lot to the empty rooms on the far side. She comes to a stop in front of the room she’s picked out him; its brass number glinting dully in the dying light.

“Here you go,” she says, turning the key in the lock and pushing the door open. The heat inside the room is even more suffocating than the office and she shakes her head, apologising for the temperature as she waves him inside. He enters slowly, ducking his head a little to get under the doorframe and dropping his bag on the bed. She watches as he gazes impassively around the room, taking in the outdated décor and simple furnishings.

“It’s not much,” Maria says when he doesn’t make a comment. “But it’s got a bed, tv, air con – let me find the controller for you – oh, and a fridge. We have kettles and electric cooker things for rent if you need them, though I figure you don’t?”

His soft “no” confirms her assumption and she nods absently, busy searching the room for the air conditioning remote. Pulling it triumphantly out of one of the drawers, she presses a couple of buttons, causing the unit on the wall to come whirring to life.

“Right, think that’s everything,” she says briskly, handing the control to York. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, this is great. Thank you.” He sounds genuine and the smile he gives her is a little less forced than before. “Oh actually, is there anywhere to get food around here?”

She points him in the direction of the local bar and bids him goodnight, heading home to her own dinner with her family. Normally Maria can forget work as soon as she closes her front door, but there’s something about York that stays with her throughout dinner and well into the evening.

It was sadness, she decides at last; sadness lying heavily over him. He hid it well, disguised it beneath a hard and taciturn exterior but it was there, seeping through the cracks in his smile and the pauses in his voice; words left unspoken.

He reminded her strongly of her husband, Eduardo; a veteran who served in Operation Desert Storm and who never fully returned from Iraq. The intervening years had been difficult and involved a long period of healing and readjustment but they had prevailed. Maria couldn’t say Eduardo was back to being who he was before the war – there are some wounds too deep to ever be completely forgotten – but the rough times had thankfully passed into memory, time healing as best it could.

If anyone would have an insight into a troubled soul, it would be Eduardo.

He listens to her talking about York all through dinner without complaint. Finally, as they’re lying in bed together, he says, “Sometimes the only thing people feel they can do is run.”

Maria runs her fingers lightly up and down his arm, seeing the ghosts slide across his face. “You didn’t,” she whispers.

He stares off into the distance, eyes unfocused, heavy. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

His quiet admission halts her hand on his arm. “But you didn’t.” The words are suddenly difficult to get out, her throat inexplicably dry.

He turns his head to look at her, lifting her hand off his arm and raising it to brush his lips over her knuckles. “No.”

 “Why?”

“Because of you.” His voice is low, sending shivers running down her spine. “You’re the only thing I’ve never doubted.”

His brown eyes are filled with warmth and in that moment Maria can see the man he was; the youth she first fell for before he went to war. Now there’re wrinkles and scars where there was none, and she loves him in spite of them. _No_ – she loves them too; they’re a part of him, each and every one. They are marks of the past but also a reminder of hope for the future.

She runs a thumb lightly over his cheek and leans in to him. As their lips meet, all thoughts of the stranger at the motel are forgotten; the world outside melting away until there’s nothing left but them, and then peace.

It’s only just nine a.m. and the temperature is already hitting eighty when Maria returns to the motel. York is sitting outside the office, back to the wall and legs stretched out before him. The dark shadows under his eyes are more pronounced than they were yesterday; two purple slashes hollowing his face and preternaturally aging him. She doubts he’s had much sleep and wonders how safe it is for him to ride the death-trap of a motorcycle he has.

Then she wonders why she cares. He’s just another drifter, right?    

But she’s no longer convinced by that.

Striding past him, she unlocks the door and is met by a wave of hot, stale air. York follows her inside, dropping the key on the desk and wincing at the stuffiness.

“You work in this?”

Maria pulls her greying black hair up into a rough ponytail, shrugging off his question.  “Air-con’s broken again. I keep telling Mister Cararre that owns this place it needs fixing but he moved to Burque and only visits when he feels like it.”

The blond looks at the unit on the wall, considering. “I might be able to fix it, if you don’t mind me meddling?”

Maria grins at him. “ _Mijo_ , if you can you’d be an absolute miracle worker.”

He gives her a shy smile in return as he drags a chair over to the wall, using it to reach the air con unit. Levering off the front panel, he casts a practiced eye over the mechanism. “You have tools?” he asks, voice strengthening in confidence.

The receptionist fumbles beneath the desk for a moment, pulling a tattered bag out from the depths. “We used to have a guy on-site to deal with this sort of thing,” she tells him as she drops the bag by the foot of the chair. “He retired last year; never got anyone to replace him. Left these behind though.”

The blond drops down lightly to search through the tools concealed within the bag. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he begins, but Maria cuts him off before he can launch into a detailed explanation of the troubles.

“Save your breath; I don’t understand mechanics at all. If you say it’s not too bad, I believe you. Do you need anything else?”

York shakes his head, glancing from the array of tools to the open unit, mind already on the task at hand. Maria recognises the expression that’s forming on his face; it’s the same look of preoccupation her husband often has when he’s working. She leaves him to it, heading out to check on the rest of the motel. But with few guests the rooms are all in order and her rounds take her barely any time at all, even with a stop to chat to one of the permanent residents.

When she returns to the office the blond is still busy so she settles back into her chair, book in hand. The noise of tinkering is a familiar one, strangely soothing and is a pleasant change from the near-silence she normally has to endure.

A louder bang rouses her from her book and she looks up just as the air con comes groaning back into life; a blast of warm air followed by a steadily cooling breeze. York drops the wrench and steps back, grinning and wiping an oily hand across his forehead.

“Done,” he says, unnecessarily. “Can’t promise for how long though. It’s pretty old; you’d be better off with a new one.”

Maria beams at him, enjoying the fresh feeling of the chilled air blowing in her direction and ignores his comment. The chances of her getting a new air con unit any time soon are slim to none. Her gaze shifts from York’s oily hands to the clock on the wall and starts in surprise at the time.

“You’re coming to lunch,” she tells him, chucking over a roll of paper towels for his hands.

He snags it out of the air casually, a strange expression on his face. “No. Thank you,” he mutters. “There’s no need, honestly. Just glad to have helped.”

The older woman rolls her eyes. “It’s no trouble, if that’s what’s worrying you. I’ve made a whole heap of posole; there’s plenty to go around.”

York shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry; I really should be leaving.”

“You have somewhere to be?” It comes out a lot sharper than she’d intended and he looks slightly taken aback.

Twisting a paper towel around his fingers he shrugs carelessly, eyes flitting away from hers. “… I guess not.”

“Well then, that’s settled,” she says firmly, grabbing her handbag and keys from behind the desk and shooing him towards the door.

The sun is high as they leave the motel; hot rays beaming down from the cloudless sky and baking the already parched earth. Maria can feel the heat radiating off the black tarmac, being reflected onto her bare legs, and the soles of her shoes stick slightly to the tacky surface. This is the sort of weather normally reserved for high summer, July and August, not spring. It doesn’t bode well for the upcoming season.

Seeing York squinting in the bright light she’s inordinately glad of her sunglasses and she shakes her head disapprovingly.

“You’re going to hurt your eyes,” she tells him but he only smiles, realising what she means.

“My visor’s tinted.” He makes it sounds like an explanation and she figures he spends so much time on that motorcycle of his it may as well be.

She makes a non-committal sound in response and they lapse into silence, turning off the main street and walking the thankfully short distance to Maria’s house. She opens the front door and they’re met by the smell of home-cooking and a refreshing blast of artificially chilled air.

Seeing her son’s shoes in the hall, she yells upstairs to let him know she’s home and it’s lunchtime as she leads York through into the kitchen. There’re the sounds of a door opening and loud footsteps banging down the stairs before her son enters the room, stopping in surprise when he sees York hovering awkwardly by the fridge, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his jeans as he stands clearly ill at ease in unfamiliar surroundings.

“Mama who’s the _huero_?” he says in greeting, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Maria tuts disapprovingly. “Jacob, language. This is York. He’s come for lunch. York, this is my youngest, Jacob.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jacob.”

Her son rolls his eyes. “Whatever. What’s for lunch? I’m starving.”

Maria shakes her head in faint despair. “I’m so sorry about him, York. He’ll be a Senior at high school come September, though he still seems stuck in the stroppy teenager phase.”

The blond snorts. “My little brother went through that; I remember it well.” There’s a moment of surprise at his words and York shuts up instantly, as if realising he’s said too much.

“Your brother?” Maria asks, pressing only a small bit.

York’s gaze skitters away from hers once again, shifting his weight in a way the woman’s beginning to recognise as discomfort. “He’s… not around anymore.”

There’s a tinge of pain to his voice, remnants of a sorrow that is still raw, still fresh. In spite of that, Maria doesn’t get the impression that his brother is dead. The grief is… wrong somehow. Misplaced. Trying to read the sentiment behind his words though is proving impossible and the Hispanic woman is saved a headache when the blond decides to take the initiative, changing the subject.

 “Is Jacob your oldest?” he asks abruptly.

“No,” she replies with a widening smile, deciding to humour him and allow the retreat to a safer topic of conversation. It’s not her place to get involved, no matter how curious she is about the stranger. “His older sister, Ana, is away at college. University of New Mexico.”

There’s pride in her voice now, and York must pick up on it because he asks her little, open questions, allowing her to chatter away at him while she finishes dishing up the stew.

Jacob is already sitting at the table, fiddling with his phone, fingers flying across the keys and paying them no attention. It’s only when his father arrives home, greeting Maria with a kiss on the cheek, that the teen drops it onto the table and starts to take an interest in his surroundings.

“York, this is my husband, Eduardo,” Maria introduces the two men, giving her partner a meaningful look behind the blond’s back as they shake hands. “York fixed the air con at the motel so I thought I’d feed him,” she adds, giving her husband a quick explanation of why she’s brought a stray home.

Eduardo just gives her a faint smile, but she can see his eyes already searching the other man’s face, looking for what Maria doesn’t know but he seems to find it as he relaxes; tension sloughing from his shoulders.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, letting go of York’s hand and dropping into a chair.

Maria shoos the tall blond into the seat opposite her husband before handing out the bowls of food and sliding into the space next to her husband. There’s a period of silence as everyone digs in to the stew, the pork and hominy rich with spice and chile.

Finally Maria speaks, taking the opportunity to ask a question that’s been niggling at her since she met the stranger. “So York, how long have you been on the road for?”

She keeps her tone light and friendly, not wanting to put the stranger on the defensive. But her worries prove to be unfounded; York pausing only to swallow a mouthful of stew before answering her.

“I don’t rightly know. Couple of months maybe? I left Blu- _California_ in March so…” He trails off and Maria realises he has no idea of the date. He must see something of this written on her face because he looks abashed, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “Guess I’ve kinda lost track of time.”

“It’s May,” Jacob interjects. Maria isn’t sure whether her son is trying to be helpful or rude but sends him a warning glance nonetheless. 

York doesn’t react, impassively raising another fork of posole to his mouth.

An uncertain silence falls and it’s Eduardo who comes to their rescue. “So you’re pretty handy with tools, then? You an engineer or something?”   

The blond shakes his head. “No, I’m no engineer,” he says, the barest undercurrent of bitterness to his voice. “I used to be a mechanic; motorbikes mostly. But I’m not too bad with cars. And I’ve picked odd things up here and there.”

Eduardo nods thoughtfully. “You ever thought of sticking around anywhere? Finding work?” he asks, and Maria knows where her husband is going with this line of questioning.

The blond shrugs. “It hasn’t crossed my mind to be honest. I’ve just been on the move. Haven’t really stayed anywhere too long for… a while.” And there again is the hint that he’s running from something; that he doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s doing, he’s just wandering. York seems to sense the older man is angling for something and he gives him a curious look. “Why do you ask?”

Maria’s husband opts for honesty, his tone casual as he says, “Old Joe at the garage is looking to take on someone.  There’s not another mechanic out here for miles and he’s getting on a bit. Trying to train up one of the local lads but he could really do with another qualified hand to pick up the slack for a few months. Pay won’t be great, but you don’t seem the kinda guy that’d be bothered by that. I could have a word with him, if you wanted?”

There’s that slightest widening of his eyes; the tiny, subtle tell that belies the blond’s impassive expression, revealing surprise at the older man’s easy job offer. York pauses before answering, as if assessing Eduardo’s authenticity. 

“I… don’t know. I wasn’t really planning on staying...” He trails off, a slight frown on his face.

“You’re not planning on much really, are you?” Jacob says snidely but this time Maria lets it go. She has, after all, encouraged her children to be honest and the teenager seems to have cut straight through to the heart of the matter.

York looks disconcerted for a moment, before his features smooth back into the blank mask he favours.

Eduardo looks unfazed by his son’s comment, and by the blond’s non-committal response. “Well, no pressure,” he tells York with unusual gentleness. “Just think on it for a bit, eh?”

The blond gives a small, distracted smile. “I will.”

He doesn’t sound too convincing and Maria suspects nothing further will come of this; York will move on as planned, continue his aimless wandering until- Well, until she doesn’t know.

At that moment, Jacob appears to finally pick up on the blond’s discomfort, or he’s got bored of the current conversation, as he switches topics, “Dad, the Lobos have their Spring Game next week. Lucas can get us tickets if we want to go?”

Maria smiles as her husband and son get onto their favourite subject, and shared passion, but York’s confusion deepens.

“Lobos?” he asks her quietly and Maria grins.

“The New Mexico Lobos; UNM’s football team,” she begins, only for Jacob to interject when he sees the stranger’s apparent interest.

“Best team in Mountain West,” he tells York. “Who’d you support?”

The blond shrugs carelessly. “I don’t, really. Never had much time for sport.” He senses this possibly isn’t the answer Jacob was looking for as he adds, a little lamely, “I’ve seen the Chargers play on tv a few times.”

But her son has already lost interest, instead turning back to engage his dad in a discussion about the potential players and theories about the upcoming season, only a few months away. Maria rolls her eyes at York in apology, who gives her a weak smile in response before returning his attention to his lunch. The rest of the meal passes in silence, from the blond at least; Jacob and Eduardo’s conversation drifts from college ball onto the NFL, with Maria joining in with mild corrections where necessary, being a keen fan herself.

When the meal ends, York offers to wash up and, as Jacob disappeared up to his room as soon as his plate was clear, Maria takes him up on it.

While the blond stranger is busy at the sink, she takes the opportunity to slide closer to Eduardo.

“What do you think?” she asks softly, knowing her husband will have been gauging the young man, taking his measure and forming his own opinions on him, especially after everything she’d said about him last night.

Eduardo pauses a long moment before answering. “You might be right,” he replies at last, matching her quietness. “Military, or at the very least that kid’s seen things he shouldn’t’ve.”

There’s a flicker in his dark eyes, a trace of the old horror that used to haunt them; memories that have faded over the years but can still cause pain. A part of her feels guilty for bringing up old hurts for Eduardo, but Maria knew he would understand once he’d seen York. One old solider to another. She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the callouses on his palm as he returns the gesture.

“You think he’ll stay?” she murmurs, eyes flicking to check the blond isn’t paying them any attention. He appears oblivious to their discussion, shoulders relaxed as he swirls a plate in the hot water.

Her husband shrugs. “Hard to say. Depends what he’s running from.”

The greying lady bites her lip, glancing back to York warily. “So he _is_ running?”

The older man follows her gaze, shooting the stranger a sharp look. He seems to get the impression that York is listening to their conversation, and instead of replying he just gives Maria a single nod, before switching the subject to more mundane concerns; the need to repair fence in the yard, a trip into Albuquerque to pick up some supplies and drop in to see Ana, little things, impersonal and unthreatening.  

Once York’s finished the washing up, the older woman sees him eyeing the door and knows it’s time to go.  As they leave, Eduardo clasps the blond’s hand tightly.

“It don’t ever hurt to rest awhile,” he tells him. “Think on my offer.”

York promises he will, but Maria can’t tell if he’s serious or just humouring her husband.

Stepping out from the pleasant coolness of her house into the oppressive early afternoon heat is an unpleasant experience and, as if by some unspoken agreement, they quicken their pace, making the short journey back to the motel in silence. When it becomes clear York isn’t going to broach the subject of work, the older woman decides to take the initiative.

“You know,” Maria begins lightly as they approach the office. “If you do decide to stay, I could always do with a handyman round here sometimes too. Be worth a discount on your room.”

There’s a smile playing around her lips as York turns to her, and she can see him considering her offer. She’s almost certain he’s about to refuse, decline and roar out of here on his bike and she’d never see him again. But he doesn’t. Instead there’s a long pause and then the serious expression on his face melts into wry humour.

He rubs a hand across his face and drags his fingers back into his hair, pushing the unruly locks of his forehead. “And here I was thinking you just wanted me around for my good looks.”

The comment, so unexpected, startles a laugh out of the shorter woman. It’s the first hint of there being a real person behind his carefully constructed façade, the first glimpses of what Maria assumes to be his real personality shining through. She takes this as a good sign.

“So that’s a yes then?” she presses and he laughs, the sun reflecting off his eyes, turning them a bright, sparkling blue.

“Well,” he says slowly, the smile fading to melancholy. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang:
> 
>  _Mijo_ \- my son (affectionate, used by an older person towards a younger male)
> 
>  _Huero_ \- or _guero_ \- pale-skinned, blond-haired person. Not derogatory but can be used that way.


	9. Part 8

Hunter knows it must be love when he’s dragged along to an event being hosted by Shane’s parents that involves him wearing black tie. As in a real tuxedo with a freaking bow tie and everything. Normally he avoids anything that involves him dressing up and looking smart like the plague, but Shane asked and Hunter’s mouth says yes before his mind has a chance to understand what he’s letting himself in for. It’s a disquieting sensation, when he realises he’d endure far worse to spend an evening with his boyfriend.

They go to a tailor together; Shane’s paying for him to hire a tux for the evening as he said it was the only way he’d get the blond there looking halfway decent. The thunder ninja doesn’t even own a suit, which he knows is much to Shane’s increasing despair.

Hunter isn’t very enthusiastic to begin with and is distinctly unimpressed with the outfit, but decides it might have been worth it for the look on Shane’s face as he emerges from the dressing room.

It’s a look that goes from shock to amazement to _I-want-to-jump-you-right-now_ in quick succession and, as his boyfriend seems momentarily speechless, Hunter seizes the opportunity to get a little bit of pre-emptive revenge for the impending evening.

 “So…” he begins, slowly turning around just to make sure Shane gets the full effect. “What do you think?”

Shane opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before saying hoarsely. “It’s great. Let’s get it and get back to yours.”

“You don’t think I should try a different one?” Hunter asks, pretending to give himself a serious look-over in the large mirror. He looks back at Shane to see the air ninja glaring at him.

“No,” the red-clad teen says flatly.

“But your sister was telling me yesterday that it’s important to weigh up all your options,” Hunter responds with an exaggerated eye-flutter and not-very-subtle hip-wiggle.

Shane practically growls at him. “Get it off now. We’re leaving.”

“What? You mean right here?”

“Hunter!” His boyfriend’s exclamation is a part annoyed, part wailing, and all kinds of frustrated. He tries to grab at Hunter, shove him back into the dressing room but the blond dances out of reach, grinning. He starts unbuttoning the shirt and Shane flushes red, glancing about nervously to see if anyone else is watching. “ _Hunter_.”

His name is long and drawn-out, Shane almost begging him to stop making a public nuisance of himself. Hunter ignores him, undoing a couple more buttons before the air ninja lunges at him, slapping his hands away from the shirt but the blond’s stepping back, twisting out of the way and the dark-haired teen trips over the leg of a nearby chair and finds himself landing in an ungainly heap on the floor.   

Hunter starts sniggering and Shane drops his head into his hands in mock-despair. “Seriously, did I do something wrong in a past life? I must have done to deserve you.”

An expression of mock-hurt adorns the blond’s face and he pouts down at his boyfriend. “You love me really.”

“Yes, but I don’t know _why_.”

Shane speaks in jest but there’s a sudden pause as they both recognise the enormity of sentiment behind the words.

 _Love_ …

Neither of them has spoken of it, but they can’t deny the mutual deepening of the feelings they have towards each other. But admitting it out loud… Using the L-word… Hunter just- He can’t really process that. The fact that Shane could _love_ him… He sees a wariness in the air ninja’s brown eyes, worry that he’s pushed too far and the blond decides now isn’t the time for discussion. Now is just to accept it, accept that it’s been said and freak out about it later; damn the consequences.

“You lo-ve me,” Hunter sings, grinning and even though Shane is as red as his t-shirt the thunder sensei can see the relief that’s there also, and he knows he’s reacted appropriately.

“Get it off,” the dark haired teen tells him tartly, smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “We’re leaving.”

Hunter decides it’s probably worth obeying this time. “Sir, yes, sir,” he says cheekily, saluting and disappearing back into the changing rooms to remove the offending garment.

As soon as they get through the door to the Bradleys’ apartment, Shane is pushing him in the direction of the bedroom, bags dropped haphazardly onto the floor and the air ninja is tugging off Hunter’s t-shirt. They tumble into a breathless heap on the bed, arms and legs tangled and laughter ringing around the room. This… If this isn’t love, Hunter doesn’t know what is.

They do manage, somehow, to leave Hunter’s apartment on time, sneaking kisses in the back seat of the cab and holding hands the entire journey. Maybe, Hunter thinks, this party might not be too dreadful after all.

But his optimism is short-lived, falling flat soon after they arrive at the Clarke’s mansion. The majority of the guests are business partners, associates, clients of Shane’s parents and the whole thing smacks of ‘corporate’. It’s also becoming clear to the thunder sensei that, despite what they might say, his boyfriend’s parents, particularly his father, aren’t too keen on their son _having_ a boyfriend. Like, they said they didn’t mind him being gay but Hunter thinks that was when it was more of a theoretical gay.  

Shane dating Hunter has made their son’s sexuality very real for his parents and the blond’s not convinced they’re as ‘cool’ with it as they seem to be. His suspicions are heightened when Shane’s commandeered by his father almost as soon as they enter the room (probably trying to introduce him to some ‘nice girls’), leaving Hunter hovering awkwardly around the edge of the main room; a pillared square space with buffet tables and waiters moving between the smartly-dressed guests serving tiny canapés and flutes of sparkling liquid. 

Hunter hates it already, remembering vividly _why_ he doesn’t go to things like this, not even at the Thunder Academy; he feels so goddamned _out of place_. All this – the setting; the people; the clothing – is so far out of his comfort zone, so alien to him, that it’s painful. It’s stupid little things that get to him; how’s he meant to stand? Who is he meant to talk to? What’s he meant to say? And what the hell is he meant to do with his hands? He’s has to resist the urge to stick his hands into the pockets of the (- _ridiculously expensive and very uncomfortable_ -) suit jacket because he knows how much Shane’s parents hate that. Apparently it makes him look bored and scruffy. Which is his normal state of being for these events anyway.

The free champagne kinda helps. At least holding the glass gives him something to do with his hands that isn’t going to get him frowned at.

He’s standing awkwardly by himself watching the guest mingle and… network – is that how Shane’s father describes it? Whatever – when a small voice whispers from behind him.

“ _Psst_.”

He turns to see a little round face topped by curly black hair peering out at him from a pillar, brown eyes sparkling with mischief and a gap-toothed grin firmly in place. Seeing she has his attention, Tia steps out into the room with a cautious glance around.

“Who you hiding from?” Hunter asks, feeling the smile on his face instantly become less forced.

Hunter has a soft spot for the little Clarke, despite being initially overwhelmed by her. Her instant approval had been slightly disconcerting; Hunter’s used to _not_ being liked and it generally takes a while for people to warm up to him, so he’d been thrown by her immediate acceptance of him. He decided it was because he was a novelty, something different, and fully expected her to get bored of him but it had never happened. And he’s still clueless as to why. In fairness, his only experience of small kids has been with Blake and that doesn’t count because they may have been children but they’d had to grow up quickly. ‘Adults in young bodies’, that’s what Sensei Omino had called them when they arrived at the Thunder Academy and Hunter guesses it’s a pretty apt description.  So, not knowing about children (especially little girls), he’d just treated her as he treated Tori and she adored him for it.

The young girl frowns, twisting her fingers into the skirt of her dress. “Why do you think I’m hiding from someone?”

Hunter chuckles. “Because you were behind the pillar.” Before she can open her mouth to protest he adds, “I’m like a sneaking _expert_ ; I can recognise when someone else doesn’t want to be seen. And you know I won’t tell on you.”

“Like when I didn’t tell on you that time you snuck into Shane’s room for a sleepover?” Tia’s question is innocent but Hunter flushes anyway, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment.

“Yeah, something like that,” he mutters then desperately tries to bring the subject back onto her. “So… who _are_ you hiding from?”

Tia huffs out a breath. “My mom. She said I could stay up if I was good and I _have_ been good but she’s changed her mind as always and keeps trying to send me to bed. It’s not fair. Shane’s always allowed to stay up. Why can’t I?” She pauses for air. “You’re not going to send me to bed are you? I don’t want to go; I want cake.”

Her large eyes blink at him mournfully and he laughs. “Cake is it? Well how about you and me relieve that buffet table over there of its sweet stuff? I don’t reckon your dad’s friends eat that much of it.”

Tia shakes her head. “I don’t either,” she says with childish wisdom. “Maybe they’d smile more if they did.”

“Bet they would,” the blond replies with a grin, beginning to make his way across to the food. Tia skips happily along next to him, sliding her tiny hand into his big one.

After gathering enough cakes and candy to make a dentist have a heart-attack, the two of them retreat to the hallway and the relative peace of the main staircase. As they sit on the bottom step to split their haul, Hunter notes for the first time what the little girl is wearing.

 “Pretty dress,” he tells her, starting to sort the candy into two piles. “Did Shane help you pick it by any chance?”

“No, I chose it,” she says indignantly, fussing with the skirt, smoothing the material down with her hands. “Red’s _my_ favourite colour. Just because _he_ wears it all the time doesn’t mean I can’t like it too.” She pauses, then looks the older man up and down, cocking her head to one side. “You’re always wearing red too.”

It almost sounds like an accusation.

“I wear crimson,” he says absently, still picking through the sweets.

Tia snags a candy from her pile and stuff in into her mouth. “Why?”

 ‘ _Why_ ’; Tia’s favourite question, and Hunter recognises the warning signs of her going into inquisitor-mode.

“I like it. You don’t wear colours you don’t like.”

The curly-haired girl pulls a face. “I do when mom makes me. And my school jumper’s _green_. Green sucks.”

Hunter laughs. “Don’t let Cam hear you say that. Cam likes green.” Tia doesn’t appear to have heard him, having returned to studying him intently. The blond rolls his eyes. “What is it?” His tone is resigned, knowing she has something else on her mind.

“You’re not wearing red tonight.”

“Your brother wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh.” Tia considers this for a moment before she drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s a meanie.”

The blond nods at her in agreement. “I think you’re right,” he tells her sagely and Shane’s sister giggles through the mouthful of cake she’s just taken. 

 “Tianna Clarke!”

The voice makes them both jump and Hunter looks up to see Shane’s mother striding down the corridor towards them. Elizabeth Clarke is a formidable woman and Hunter isn’t ashamed to admit he finds her quite intimidating. She’s the sort of woman he firmly expects Tori to grow up into, although without the faint disapproval of him. Actually, Tori probably _does_ disapprove of him sometimes, but it’s not because of who he’s dating and, in contrast to Elizabeth, Tori never masks her opinions behind false affection. If the water sensei’s upset with you, you _know_ it. Hunter doesn’t envy his brother in the slightest.

Whatever her personal views on Hunter and sexuality in general might be, the blond has to admit Elizabeth, unlike Shane’s father, has never made him feel anything other than welcome in her home and in her son’s life. But he can’t help but sense her friendly façade shrouds her true feelings, and he treads carefully.

She comes to a halt a few steps away from the two fugitives, hands resting on hips. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you young lady. Bed time.”

“Busted,” Hunter murmurs to Tia out of the corner of his mouth and she pulls a face at him, reluctantly getting to her feet and brushing the crumbs from her dress.

“Must I? Can’t I stay here with Hunter? I won’t cause trouble,” she pleads, eyes large and damp.

Elizabeth is immune to her daughter’s entreaty. “Knowing you you’ve _already_ caused trouble. Just how much cake have you eaten?” As Tianna shuffles her feet the tall lady turns to the blond, who’s stood at her approach. “I hope she hasn’t been bothering you, Hunter dear. You are allowed to send her away when she gets annoying you know.”

“Nah, she’s not a bother, Ms. Clarke,” Hunter says with a crooked grin and Tia beams at him.

“You’re sweet,” Shane’s mother replies, patting him on the arm. “And it’s Elizabeth. How many times must I tell you?” The thunder ninja gives an awkward shrug and the older woman looks down at her daughter. “Come on Tia, bed time.”

Tianna glowers and just as it looks like she’s going to start an argument Hunter squats down on his haunches so he’s eye-to-eye with her. “Hey if you’re good and do what your mom says, I’ll get Shane to take us to the beach tomorrow. How about that?”

Brown eyes give him a suspicious look. “You promise?”

Hunter nods, getting back to his feet. “Promise.”

“Fine then.” With a theatrical sigh, the little girl allows herself to be led away, her mother giving Hunter a grateful smile as they leave. Tia casts one, final mournful look back over her shoulder, which the blond responds to by sticking his tongue out at her. Tia grins and then the two women are out of view, the thunder ninja once again left to his own devices.

He’s just walking back to the main room with the vague idea of grabbing some more champagne (well, it is _free_ ) when a deep voice hails him.

“Hunter.”

“Mr. Clarke.” The blond turns to greet the speaker, ignoring the sinking sensation in his stomach. Hunter never feels comfortable around Shane’s father, always on edge, unbalanced. He just can’t figure the man out and he hates that. It’s unnerving, to be so sure someone doesn’t like you yet unable to find concrete evidence to support your theory. Shane doesn’t believe him when Hunter says his father dislikes him, and the blond doesn’t blame him. Mr. Clarke has done nothing to warrant Hunter’s mistrust, is always impeccably polite and yet… unlike his wife, there’s no semblance of approval there, no warmth; just cold indifference lying over barely disguised distaste. Hunter wonders what he wants with him now, sure it cannot be good.  

Dark brown eyes, so like his son’s but with none of their warmth, survey him for a moment before the greying man says, “Walk with me?”

It’s framed like a request but Hunter knows it isn’t.

They step out into the garden, the faintest chill to the night air and the smell of freshly watered grass enveloping them. There’s the sound of running water from a small fountain in the centre of the lawn and, if Hunter strains his ears, he can just make out the roar of traffic from the surrounding streets.

The two men stand in silence for what seems like an age, Hunter shifting his weight from foot-to-foot as his anxiety grows.

There’s a strange sort of relief when Mr. Clarke finally does start the conversation.

“My son’s a good boy,” the older man begins, instantly drawing Hunter’s attention. “Bright.”

The thunder ninja’s not sure if he should respond, or _how_ , so he plays it safe with quiet agreement. “Yes, sir.”

Shane’s father doesn’t appear to have heard him, or is ignoring him, which is probably the more likely explanation.

“You know he got into Stanford right?” he continues abruptly and Hunter’s head jerks in surprise. Seeing the younger man’s reaction, Hunter’s genuine ignorance, seems to confirm something to Mr. Clarke and he sighs. “That’s what I thought. Well, he did. He could have started in September but for some reason he didn’t accept the place.”

 _That… made sense_. The rangers hadn’t defeated Lothor until mid-September; Shane wouldn’t have gone to college while there was still a threat to the world hanging over them. But Hunter hadn’t even known the red ranger had _applied_ , let alone been accepted. It’s what Mr. Clarke says next though that really stuns the thunder sensei.

“He said he just needed some time, so I pulled some strings and got them to defer his place. He was meant to start in January. We’d had everything planned and then just after Christmas, a week before he’s supposed to go, he comes to me and says he’s not starting this year either. He’s wanted to be an engineer since he was a kid, he has a place at one of the best engineering universities in the county and suddenly out of the blue he’s telling me he’s not going. Makes a father ask what’s changed.”

There’s a dull thudding in Hunter’s ears, a rushing as his heartbeat increases; he knows what changed, what happened. _They_ happened; they became a couple. That Christmas… That’s when they knew something more serious was going on between them, that this _thing_ they had wasn’t just a fling; it was real. Shane had apparently decided there was something keeping him in Blue Bay Harbour, something for him _here_ , instead of heading up to Stanford.

Mr. Clarke appears to have reached the same conclusions as Hunter. “Shane’s clever. He’ll go far, if he applies himself. And if he lets go of… certain influences that are holding him back, stopping him achieving his full potential. I love my son; I want what’s best for him. And if you care about him as much as he seems to think you do, you will too.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Hunter says slowly, trying to ignore the churning sensation in his stomach, a sense of foreboding rolling across him. And then he does understand; clarity dousing any hopes and dreams he had like a bucket of ice water. What the other man is saying, what he is implying is suddenly apparent; _Shane has a future, but only if Hunter isn’t in it_.

Even though he’s sure he knows the answer, and even though he doesn’t want to, he has to ask, “What do you want from me?”

“I want…” the man begins and then pauses, seeming to pick his words carefully. “I want you to do right by Shane. You’re a smart kid, I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out for you.” Hunter’s face remains carefully blank, not daring to give away any of the emotions he thinks he should be showing right now, and Shane’s father gives a small sigh that could be disappointment. He continues, either not realising or not caring that his words rip apart the wonderful bubble Hunter had been inhabiting, “He stayed in Blue Bay for you. Are you worth it?”

Before the younger man can answer, Mr. Clarke turns on his heel and walks away, back into the house, smart shoes clicking on the marbled floor. Hunter’s left alone with a sour taste in his mouth, the sort that even the expensive champagne can’t wash away. He sinks down onto a bench and rubs his hands over his face and through his hair. But before he can really think, take in what’s just happened, Shane’s there in front of him, giddy and laughing; the bubbly wine clearly having worked its spell on him.

“This is where you’re hiding?” he exclaims, pulling the blond to his feet and kissing him firmly on the mouth, the taste of champagne lingering on his lips. “Come on, I want you to dance with me.” 

And then the air ninja is tugging on Hunter’s hand, leading him back to main room and onto the dance floor, hands coming to rest in familiarity on his waist and swaying them both gently in time to the music. The blond pushes down whatever feelings are trying to stir in him and, ignoring the faint disapproval on the faces of the other guests, just loses himself in the moment.

For a wonderful time there’s no one and nothing else but him and the man he loves.

It’s only later, when they’re in bed in Hunter’s squalid little apartment, Shane asleep in his arms, his head resting on the thunder ninja’s chest, that the full force of Mr. Clarke’s words hit him. And he realises how much Shane has sacrificed to be with him.

It’s not just the whole ‘not going to college’ thing; it’s more than that. It’s… It’s Shane taking Hunter to some orchestra evening and the blond falling asleep halfway through. It’s Shane speaking longingly of wanting to visit Europe, of travelling to places he’s seen on tv or in magazines and Hunter not knowing where half of them are, or if his boyfriend is talking about a city or an entire country because he’s never thought about going anywhere that Blake hasn’t spoken about. It’s Shane talking with Tori and Dustin about the books they read in English class and hell even _Blake_ could join in but not Hunter because Hunter never finished High School, not had the chance to because he’d been looking after his little brother and he hadn’t cared – he hadn’t – but now…  

Hunter isn’t stupid but he knows he’s not the most intelligent of people.

Or rather, his intelligence is focused elsewhere, on battle strategies and survival and _practical_ stuff. He isn’t book-smart or music-smart or _rich-people_ smart. Shane is all of those things. Oh, his boyfriend doesn’t say anything, but Hunter’s seen the bookshelves in his bedroom filled with Dickens and Dostoyevsky and other names that are barely pronounceable but are like the classics. _Literature_. And they’re not just for show; their spines are cracked and bent with use, page edges worn from constant rereading; from _Shane_ reading them. The thunder ninja borrowed one once, a Dickens because he figured being able to say the author’s name was a good start but it wasn’t his thing. He likes books where he doesn’t have to think. At least, books that he doesn’t have to think about meaning and allegory and all that stuff he vaguely remembers Blake bitching about from his English homework. Give him a good murder mystery, preferably with some humour or fantasy thrown in (like Pratchett; if you could do a class in Pratchett Hunter would be right there) and he’s happy. And that’s just _books_. There’s music and theatre and all that… that… _stuff_ that Hunter’s just never come across and when he has encountered it has been less than impressed.

But Shane… Shane knows about this stuff, in part, the thunder ninja knows, due to a grandfather Shane was particularly close to as a kid but it’s more than that. He _enjoys_ it.  He enjoys those old books and classical music where some large lady sings in a high voice and the band has hundreds of members all playing their pieces perfectly and it’s a side the air ninja doesn’t show, doesn’t shout about but it _is_ him; it is a part of him and Hunter should make an effort because it _means_ something to his boyfriend but it’s just… When it comes to things like this, Hunter thought _La traviata_  was a type of pizza and Beethoven a dog from childhood films. And that’s that. He’s not… _cultured_. That’s the word. And it’s taken him this long to remember it which kinda proves his point.

Shane deserves someone who he can share all this stuff with. Someone who _appreciates_ it and Hunter… isn’t that guy.

“ _Are you worth it_?”

And just like that his little cocoon of happiness, of peace, is ripped apart, falling into shreds around him and he’s annoyed at himself because he should have known; should have known this was all too good to be true and he’s an absolute idiot for not seeing this sooner. Good things don’t happen to him. And he- He’s broken, he knows that, and yet… just for a little while it was nice to pretend he wasn’t. To forget about all the shit in his past and just enjoy something good for a change. But he’s been foolish, to throw everything into this relationship because he should have _known_. Surely he should have accepted it by now; people like him don’t get happy endings.

He knew that, had been aware of it pretty much since his parents were murdered, and had been _fine_ with it until Shane came along and just… Everything changed and he’s been so stupid. How could he have been so stupid? There’s a flare of anger within him; how _dare_ Shane make him want something he can’t have? Make him believe he could have something good? But mostly the anger’s aimed at himself, for letting someone in again. For opening himself up to more hurt.

Beneath it all – all anger and self-disgust and rising panic – there’s something else niggling at him, a hint that this isn’t about Shane, it’s about something deeper –  “ _Are you **worth** it_?” – but he can’t think; can’t focus on anything except how much it’s going to hurt when his boyfriend wakes up one day and realises-

 _Fuck_.

He can feel every inch of Shane pressed against his body, his head heavy on his chest, legs tangled with his, one arm trapped beneath the other man, Shane’s arms thrown across him, pinning him to the mattress, _trapping_ him… He’s suddenly too hot, the tightness in his chest constricting his lungs and he can’t- He can’t breathe. He just… he has to get up, get some air, some space.

Gently, so as not to wake his lover, he disentangles himself from the Shane’s embrace. Moving slowly despite his desperation, he slides out of bed and pads quietly into the little bathroom. Flicking on the switch, he winces as harsh, artificial light floods the room and he stumbles to the basin, splashing cool water on face in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He stares at his reflection in the mirror; skin unnaturally pale in the white illumination, purple lines hollowing his eyes and cheeks, water-darkened blond hair plastered against his forehead.

One question rises above the jumble of thoughts and emotions currently tearing through him; _what the hell does Shane see in him_?

And then it’s back; that notion, that horrible but inevitable awareness of the fact that this thing won’t – can’t – last; of Shane waking up one morning and realising he’s wasted his life with him. Of Shane leaving him. And Hunter- He’s strong, he’s had to be; he’s been through so much and he knows – he’s accepted it as a fact of his life – that people will leave him. Just like his biological parents did and then his real ones and the other people in his first few awful, messed up attempts at relationships before he gave up that idea altogether and then Sensei Omino was taken and- Even Blake. Even his little brother has left and it was fine because he had Shane but Hunter realises how selfish and futile it is to hold on to him, to hold him back because he will leave in the end and Hunter will be alone and it doesn’t matter _when_ he leaves because it’s still going to _hurt_ and-

His fingers dig painfully into the porcelain edge of the basin and he’s breathing heavily, the tightness in his chest refusing to ease and he feels nauseous; a thudding, dull sickness in his stomach that makes him want to curl up in a ball on the floor and pretend that none of this is happening. But the tiles are icy beneath his feet, cold slowly creeping up his legs and reminding him that all this is real.

“What do I do?”

The words are whispered but eerily loud in the silence of the bathroom. The man in the mirror, the stranger with wild eyes and a haunted look staring back at him, has no answer.

He can’t bear the thought of Shane leaving him. He can’t- He can’t go through that pain again. The pain of having everything you love ripped from you and being powerless to stop it. He can’t stop Shane leaving. But there is something he _can_ do, something that gives him the power, the control. Be self-reliant; have things on his terms.

He returns to the bedroom, eyes adjusting to the darkness, the faintest tinge of grey indicating that dawn is on its way. He can make out Shane’s still-slumbering figure, tucked beneath the covers and there’s that pull, that urge, to go to him but he doesn’t.

He has a bag already packed, tucked at the back of his closet. It’s sort of like his safety net, knowing that he can leave on a moment’s notice. He hasn’t seriously considered using it in months, but he’ll be the first to admit old habits die hard. There’s not much in there, only the essentials – his emergency stash of cash, ID card and a few personal items – but then he’s never had much and figures he can buy anything he needs on the road. He does chuck in a couple of t-shirts, hesitating only briefly before including one of Shane’s.

Back in bed the air sensei stirs, reaching out towards the empty space and coming to. “Hunter?”

His voice is laden with sleep, adorably confused, and Hunter instantly returns to his boyfriend’s side, catching Shane’s wandering hand with his. “I’m here,” he whispers softly. “Go back to sleep.”

The younger man mumbles something incoherent before falling drifting back off, still clutching Hunter’s hand and there’s a painful ache in the blond’s chest as he sits there in gloomy half-light of dawn, eyes fixed on Shane’s face, committing every line, every detail, to memory because memories are all he’s going to have. When he’s sure Shane’s fast asleep once again he carefully – reluctantly – extracts his hand from his boyfriend’s and eases himself up off the bed, scooping up the bag and, with a last tender glance at the slumbering man he’s leaving, slips out of the bedroom.

Double-checking the contents of his backpack, he considers his morpher for a long moment, but it’s useless now; deadweight and dangerous should anyone find it. He leaves it next to his phone on the kitchen table before walking out of the apartment, and out of Shane’s life.

He doesn’t leave a note. There’s no time; Shane’s bound to wake soon and Hunter wants to be long gone before he does. He tells himself that he doesn’t want to make this any harder than it is; that he’s doing the right thing by Shane even if it’s going to hurt him, but he knows the truth. He’s running. He just… He’s a coward and can’t bear the thought of being here to see the look on Shane’s face when he breaks his heart.

- _Can’t bear the thought of Shane breaking his heart_.-

He’ll quietly promises to send Shane something from the road. A letter or a postcard or… something. Hunter knows he probably won’t, but it’s a comforting thought nonetheless.

He reaches the underground parking lot without much recollection of how he got there, legs numbly moving on automatic as he makes his way to his motorbike. The helmet is on his head and the keys are in the ignition before he pauses, icy hands tightening around his heart and a part of his mind screaming at him to just go back, get back into bed and hold Shane until the sun’s up, forget he ever thought of leaving but he can’t. _He can’t_.

He loves Shane.

But he can’t be with him.

The motorbike roars into life and before he can change his mind he twists the accelerator and speeds out through the still-deserted streets towards the interstate, leaving the town, his friends, and his heart behind.

He’s twenty miles out of Blue Bay and heading south when he stops for gas. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, long beams of light reaching out to turn the grey world to colour and starting to warm the chilled air. He’s finishes paying for the fuel and is walking back to his bike when his gaze falls on the payphone to the side of the gas station and he remembers; there is someone he needs to call, someone he has to explain himself to, if not fully. He’s not just leaving Shane behind – he’s leaving his whole life behind, including obligations he took on months ago. As much as he wants to, he can’t just vanish completely without warning. Crossing the forecourt, he drops in a quarter and dials the number without pausing for thought, fingers and mind working mechanically.

Omino picks up on the fourth ring.

“Sensei, it’s Hunter.”

If the old man is perturbed or annoyed by the earliness of the call he keeps it out of his voice. “Hunter. Is everything okay?”

The blond tightens his grip on the receiver, clinging to the phone – and his link to the man who helped raise him – as a drowning man would to driftwood. “I have to go away for… a while. Can you cover my classes?”

“What’s happened?” His Sensei’s voice is suddenly stern, commanding but filled with concern and Hunter finds himself responding through habit, telling the truth without even considering lying.

“I’ve broken up with Shane.”

The words come out remarkably calmly but saying them aloud makes the whole situation real, immediate, and the raw emotion is back with a vengeance, pushing at his walls and threatening to overwhelm the dam he’s built to hold them back and once that’s gone the last sane parts of his mind will be flooded and he can’t breathe, _he can’t breathe-_

“Are you okay?” Omino’s voice is gentle, soothing, and reminds Hunter of where he is.

“No,” he chokes out and then takes a deep, shuddering breath, steadying himself through bloody-minded willpower. “No, but I will be.”

 _I will be_. It’s like his own personal mantra. Repeat it enough times and he might just start believing in it. _I will be okay._

“Hunter…”

The affection and love radiating from his Sensei’s voice is almost enough to make him break down right here, in the gas station, and he wants to tell him where he is, have him come and get him like the old man did those many years ago when Hunter finally gave up running, finally admitted to himself he couldn’t deal with everything by himself, couldn’t look after Blake and Omino had found them and given them a place of safety, a _home_ and he wants that so badly…

He catches himself in time to hear his Sensei saying, “-You’re always welcome here. If you need anything, I can help. We can offer you sanctuary, and peace, if that is what you desire.”

 _You already know this_ , is implicit in his tone.

And it’s tempting. So very tempting to run back there, to the only place he’s ever really felt safe since his parents died – _not the only place_ – but he knows he can’t. It would be too easy and that’s not what he wants right now. It’s not what he needs. And it wouldn’t help; there’d still be too much to deal with.

 _-Shane would find him_.-

“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s a prickling heat behind his eyes, sort of like tears but Hunter Bradley does not cry and he’s not _going_ to cry now, dammit.

There’s a pause on the other end before the old man speaks again, and Hunter knows he’s accepted his decision. “Where are you going?”

The blond pushes a hand against the wall, pressing his fingers into the rough brick. “I don’t know,” he says heavily. “Away. Somewhere… somewhere where there’s no expectations.” 


	10. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short one this time. Am hoping to get the next instalment up before I go to America in just over a weeks time (trip to San Diego Comic Con... the excitement is growing!) but I can make no promises; depends on how the next week pans out.
> 
> Until then, enjoy!

Summer still has its unyielding grip on the desert; the season lingering on into September, the month every inch as hot and as unwelcoming as August had been. In the motel office the air con unit gives a pathetic, mechanical whirr before falling silent and Maria sighs, knowing it won’t be long before the afternoon heat permeates the coolness of the room. The Hispanic woman shifts wearily in her seat, glancing at the clock to check the time. It’s quiet; summer’s refusal to leave has meant the normal influx of hikers and tourists have kept away from this remote corner of New Mexico, probably awaiting cooler weather. Maria doesn’t blame them.

Already the room feels warmer, temperature creeping up almost perceptibly. She’s just about to give in before it worsens, go and find York to fix the unit _again_ (seriously, that man has been an absolute godsend) when a truck pulls up into the motel lot. Beneath the veneer of dust Maria notes it’s fairly new, in good condition and bearing Californian licence plates. A tall dark man in a red t-shirt and worn jeans climbs out and for the first time in months a stranger arrives in Santa Luca.

The traveller stretches, perhaps ridding himself of the vestiges from a long journey and Maria sees him glance around, taking in his surroundings before making his way towards the office. The bell chimes jarringly as he steps through the door, bringing with him a gust of hot, arid air.

From her position behind the main desk, Maria looks up at the stranger with interest, getting her first clear view of the man’s face. Young and pleasant to look upon, the sort of guy who wouldn’t be out of place on the cover of some men’s health magazine, but there’s a melancholy there also; a sadness in his brown eyes that belies the cheerful smile he gives her as he stops in front of her.

“You’re brave, venturing out here with this heat,” she tells him lightly, even though she doesn’t think he’s here sightseeing. “Can I get you a room? We’ve got plenty to spare.”

“I’m actually looking for someone. A man.”

She rolls her eyes at him, unable to resist making a sarcastic comment. She’ll blame York for it later. “There’s a few of those around.”

The man takes it in his stride, smile widening briefly but refusing to be distracted for long. “This one’s called Hunter.”

It’s with a strange sense of relief that Maria doesn’t recognise the name. There’s something about this dark stranger that suggests trouble, at a minimum some upsetting of the status quo, and that worries her. She wonders if he’s some sort of policeman or law enforcement; he has the disposition of one.

She shakes head. “Sorry, we don’t have anyone by that name here. Nor has passed through. I’d remember.”

She’s not expecting the man’s expression of pure, unfeigned disappointment, looking for all the world like she’s pulled the rug out from beneath his feet. His reaction suggests a depth of emotion invested in this search that is more than professional. Maria’s becoming increasingly convinced that this is a personal mission, that this man is looking for someone he genuinely cares about. Sudden sympathy for him rises within her and she throws him a lifeline.   

“Maybe he didn’t leave his name? What does he look like?”

“Tall, blond, blue-eyed.” He pauses, as if searching for the right words or phrase.  “Brooding. Rides a motorcycle.”

Maria starts at the description, suddenly knowing exactly who he is talking about and she sees a fierce hope ignite on the man’s face.

“You know him, right?” He’s almost pleading.

She swallows hard. “There’s a guy here that fits that. Goes by York.”

She isn’t prepared for the raw emotion in the man’s dark eyes or the strange look that appears on his face; a mix of joy, relief and apprehension all rolled into one. He opens his mouth a few times, but words seem to be escaping him. When he does finally speak his voice is hoarse and tentative.

 “Where… Where is he?” 


	11. Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite last-minute work and last-minute job interviews this week, I have managed to get this chapter finished! There's only one more to go after this, though sadly as I'm away for the next week-and-a-bit (San Diego Comic Con - oh the excitement!) there's going to be a bit of a wait for it. Sorry! Hope this one will tide you over until then.
> 
> Enjoy!

Shane’s world falls apart when he wakes to find Hunter gone.

At first there’s denial, and a fierce belief that his boyfriend will be back soon, that he just needs some space, but as the days go on the hope of the thunder ninja returning of his own accord begins to fade. Shane throws himself into trying to track him, find out where he is, but with no morpher and no phone even Cam’s not-inconsiderable skills seem to be unable to get a trace on him. In fairness to the tech, the thunder ninja is fully aware of the samurai’s methods and knows how to avoid detection if he wishes.

Hunter’s off the grid and they all know he’ll remain that way until he wants to be found.

The only sighting they have is a grainy security camera image taken from a gas station just south of Blue Bay, which Shane clings to; gazing at the indistinct-yet-familiar features and trying desperately to get a read on his lover’s emotions. Almost as if by staring at it he could discover where Hunter was headed. But he can’t.

Days turn into weeks with no sign of the thunder ninja. No trace of him anywhere, just a gaping hole where Hunter should be; a raw wound that refuses to heal.

Denial turns into anger; fury at his parents for their dismissal of his sadness, for their barely concealed joy at what they see as a break-up, and for their half-hearted platitudes (-“ _He was no good for you_ ”; “ _It’s not like it was a **real** relationship anyway_”-), at Cam for the tech’s inability to find Hunter, and mind-numbing, all-consuming anger at the blond himself.

For not talking to him.

 For leaving.

For not saying goodbye.

He wonders what he’d done, if there was anything he could have said to stop Hunter going; if there was anything he _had_ said that’d caused the other man to flee. He must have done something right?

_He said he’d loved him…_

Was that it? Was _that_ what had made Hunter run? But it hadn’t… The blond hadn’t been freaked out, hadn’t shown any sign of being freaked out, and all of the air ninja’s instincts are telling him that isn’t it. That it’s something else.

Shane replays that last evening again and again, reliving every moment, every word spoken, every soft look and gentle caress and… _everything_ , just trying to figure it out. Trying to work out how to change it, undo it, but he can’t. There’d been nothing; no hint, no niggling sensation that anything was wrong and so he’s left wondering _why_.

Part of the mystery is solved a month after Hunter’s disappearance, when Shane discovers his father had spoken with him at the party that evening. He doesn’t know exactly what was said, but given the blond’s departure and his father’s sudden, renewed interest in having him attend Stanford, Shane can make an educated guess. He really should have expected it; especially after his parents hadn’t been angry when he told them he’d wrecked his car, buying him a new truck without blinking. That display of rare generosity should have set off warning bells but he’d been so caught up in his single-minded desire to find Hunter – and ignore his pain – that he hadn’t given it proper thought.

The revelation breaks whatever little remained of the trust he’d had with his parents; bitter, hurtful, _angry_ words are followed by painful silences and Shane just can’t bear being around the house any longer.   So he decides to leave, go back to the one place he _did_ feel at home, even for a brief while; the one place he’d felt comfortable and safe and… loved.

Walking through the door is surprisingly difficult. He knew coming back to the place he’d spent so much time with Hunter wouldn’t be easy, but he’s unprepared for just how hard it is; how much it hurts when he turns the key in the door and finds himself expecting a greeting that never comes.

The apartment is remains the same as it was the morning Hunter left, everything exactly where it was then; a moment frozen in time, the thin veneer of dust covering the surfaces the only indication that time has indeed passed. Shane drops his keys on the kitchen counter, the rattle they make as they land jarringly loud, breaking the stillness of the apartment. The silence is oppressive in its completeness, the air motionless and stale and… empty. Overwhelmingly empty.

He moves listlessly around the living room, eyes taking in the once-comforting surroundings; the patch of oil on the carpet from where Hunter had stripped his bike down and forgot to put enough newspaper underneath; the pile of Shane’s dvds by the tv that had slowly migrated across to the apartment; the sight of Red vs. Blue beside the dvd player, case open from when they had watched it while getting ready for the party, a physical stab in his chest; a shirt – his or Hunter’s, he isn’t sure – draped carelessly over the back of the sofa; dust motes dancing in the beam of sunlight streaming in from the window, the air disturbed by his passing.  

He pauses at the bedroom door, staring down at the handle in his hand, fingers gripping it tightly, the filed edge digging into his palm. It’s when he pushes open the door and takes in the crumpled sheets and dented pillows – the bed looking for all the world as if someone’s just jumped out of it and will be back any moment – that Shane finally begins to realise that he’s gone. Hunter’s gone and Shane… can’t do anything about it. Can’t fix it or fight it or change it. He just has to accept it.

Everything’s suddenly, sharply, real. The sun lighting the room though the closed blinds is too bright, the dust-filled air thick and chocking, his clothing too tight, too rough against his skin… Yanking his shirt off over his head he throws it viciously across the room, the material unfurling and floating harmlessly to land in the corner.

He takes a couple of steps into the room before sinking to the floor beside the bed, taking deep, gulping breaths to try and calm himself but there’s a pressure in his chest, a constricting of his lungs that’s making breathing difficult and there’s a rushing in his ears, heart hammering in his chest for no real reason.

His hand brushes against something soft on the floor nearby and with trembling fingers he draws a worn t-shirt out from under the bed. It’s the top Hunter was wearing the day before he left, the one he’d had on when they went tuxedo shopping, the one Shane had pulled off of him the moment they’d got through the bedroom door that afternoon. He clutches it to his chest, feeling hot tears pricking at his eyes and for the first time since Tori’s he doesn’t fight them; he _can’t_ fight them anymore.

Back then the tears had been borne of shock, an unconscious reaction to events that he had not been expecting and could not comprehend. Events that he _still_ can’t comprehend. Now he gives in, surrenders to the raw pain he’s been trying to hold back for weeks now, as if by focusing on finding Hunter he could somehow ignore his own emotions.

He slips the t-shirt on over his head, the worn material soft and loose against his skin, and drags his body up off the floor, falling heavily onto the bed. The sheets are musty but there’s still the faintest scent of Hunter’s aftershave clinging to the bedding, a tangible reminder of his lover’s presence. Shane buries his face in the pillow – Hunter’s pillow –, sobs wracking his body as he finally allows himself to cry, releasing some of the hurt and _emotion_ he’s been carrying around, losing himself to the maelstrom of feelings that tear through him.

Oh gods, he misses him so much. 

It’s the not-knowing that hurts the most. There’s a growing, gnawing fear within Shane, insidious and omnipresent; a fear that Hunter could be hurt, or in trouble, or worse. He could be dead and Shane wouldn’t know. Shane might never know, never find out. This could be it; this could be the last anyone ever hears of the blond and he’ll have to somehow go on with his life and grow old and _die_ without ever finding out what happened. Stuck in perpetual limbo. He just wants to know Hunter’s okay, even if the blond doesn’t want to be with him. He could deal with rejection, probably.

But this not knowing is killing him.

The anger he’s been feeling towards the blond is… not gone completely but subdued; lost beneath the wave of pain that’s finally been released. Right now he just wants Hunter back.

He cries until there are no tears left and he’s exhausted, wrung out and hollow. Despite the sun still peeking through the cracks in the blinds, his eyes shut and he drifts into a restless slumber. When he wakes hours later, groggy and disorientated, night has fallen and the dark haired man stumbles from the bedroom in search of food. As he enters the kitchen, a beep from his phone catches his attention and he sees the display flashing with missed calls. There’s a couple of voicemails from Tori which he listens to, the blonde wondering why he isn’t at dinner with her and Dustin followed by concern after she’d tried to ring him at his parents only to be told by his mother he’d walked out of the family home.

He doesn’t reply. He just can’t work up the energy to care.

He knows his friends are worried about him. But he’s hurting and he’s alone with this pain. They don’t get it; they expect him to be the strong one, the one who takes whatever life throws at him and still keeps going, pick himself up and carry on as if nothing is wrong and he can’t… He can’t do it. He can’t be strong anymore. It’s too much. It’s too _hard_. There’s a lethargy about him, a numbness, and he just wants to hide away; mourn in peace. The others won’t understand and he doesn’t want to drag them down with him. This pain is his and his alone.

He turns the phone off and drops it carelessly on the table, grabbing one of Hunter’s beers from the fridge and retreating back into bed.

All he wants is to be alone.

He’s not sure if a week or more has passed since he hid away in Hunter’s apartment, but his wallowing is violently interrupted by a fierce banging on the front door and a female voice, loud and persistent, demanding entry. He tries to ignore it, retreating to the bedroom and hiding his head beneath the pillow but the knocking only increases; the door shaking in its frame as the intruder continues yelling at him.

“Shane Clarke, I know you’re in there. If you don’t open this door _right now_ I’ll break it down. Just you see if I won’t.”

Biting back a curse, Shane throws the pillow viciously in the direction of Tori’s voice, but he gets up with a groan. He knows this is no idle threat from the water sensei; she is more than capable of forcing her way in if she really puts her mind to it and Shane doesn’t want the hassle of having to replace a trashed lock. He reluctantly unlatches the door but before he can open it fully, Tori and Dustin are barging past him into the apartment and taking in the state of the room, discarded take-away cartons, pizza boxes and empty beer bottles littering the floor around the sofa where Shane has spent most of the week.

They turn to him as one, equal looks of disappointment and something that looks uncomfortably like pity on their faces.

Tori pulls herself together first, scowling at the air ninja. “Shane-”

“Dude, you stink,” Dustin announces, wrinkling his nose.

The blonde gives a tentative sniff, gaze taking in Shane’s dishevelled state, his unkempt hair, unshaved face and dirty clothes, and her frown deepens. “When was the last time you washed?”

Shane tries to remember but before he can come up with an answer, his pause has told her everything she needs to know.

“Shower, now,” Tori demands, pointing firmly at the bathroom. Her eyes harden as he opens his mouth. “Don’t even _think_ of arguing or I’ll strip you off and shove you in that shower myself. I will do it; you know I will. It won’t be pretty and it won’t be dignified but hey, it’s your choice.”

Shane doesn’t put up a fight. Tori won’t hesitate to carry out that promise and his pride couldn’t take that. He strides into the bathroom with as much dignity he can muster and slowly strips off Hunter’s t-shirt before the rest of his clothes follow. The hot water that slams into him feels… good. Really good. As the accumulated dirt sluices off him, the tension he hardly realised he was carrying in his muscles eases and Shane might have to concede his two friends have a point.

When he at last drags himself out from under the jet he finds a towel and pile of clean clothes strategically placed just inside the door and the corners of his mouth twitch in the closest he’s come to smiling in a while. He even works up the energy to shave, removing the dark, itchy stubble that is a week-old beard.

Dried, clothed and running a towel across his damp hair, he exits the bathroom to find Tori and Dustin busying themselves getting the living room back in order. “So do you two have a plan or are you just here to glare at me?” he asks as they stop mid-clean to look at him.

Tori reacts first, giving him a barely perceptible nod before casting a reproving eye over the littered room. “We’ve got to finish cleaning this place up,” the water ninja says. “Then we’re going shopping-”

“-‘cos _dude_ , you have, like, no food in here at all,” Dustin pipes up, once again interrupting the blonde.

She gives the earth ninja an exasperated-but-fond look and continues, “And then we’re going to cook some real food. Because take-aways do not constitute a balanced diet. No, Dustin,” she adds quickly, before the curly-haired teen can chime in. “Not even if there’s vegetables on the pizza.”

He manages an abashed look, but gives Shane a wink when Tori’s gaze is elsewhere. It brings a small smile to the air ninja’s face and there’s a sense of comfort as he joins the two of them in cleaning the apartment. The whole apartment; the petite woman not being satisfied with just getting rid of the junk but in removing the layer of dust and making the kitchen suitable to be cooked in, even stripping the bedding off the bed and taking a load of washing down to the laundry.

It doesn’t hurt as much as Shane was expecting.

Even the trip to the supermarket isn’t as painful as he thought it would be; Tori taking charge of the shopping while Dustin takes charge of the air ninja, managing to distract him from his depression with a constant stream of chatter, reminding him that he does have a life outside the apartment walls.

Dinner that evening isn’t anything fancy, but Shane has to admit the food tastes a lot better than the take-out he’s been living on. The apartment is full of life, of laughter, with the other two around; a stark change from the silence he’s been living in for days. At first it’s nice, and then it’s too much.

He needs space – quiet, just a moment to himself – so when the meal is finished, the air ninja volunteers to do the washing up. It’s as he’s standing at the sink, hands immersed in hot, soapy water, that the pain finds him again, as alive and as vivid as it was at the beginning and he’s cast back into the black pit he’s been inhabiting since he accepted the fact that Hunter is gone.

The tears, hot and salty, spring to his eyes and roll down his face to drip off his chin into the dish water. He barely hears the light tread of footsteps behind him, until a pair of thin, tanned arms wrap themselves around him, a warm body pressing into his back and a blonde head resting on his shoulder.

 “Oh Shane,” Tori’s voice is small and sad but also filled with love and comfort, that makes him go weak at the knees because he’s missed someone holding him so much and it’s Tori, it’s his _sister_ and he’s been pushing her away but really he just wants someone to… to hold onto. He turns into her and clings on, seeking comfort through her strength.

“It hurts.”

“I know,” she whispers, her breath soft on his ear and she kisses his temple gently, strong fingers caressing his hair.  There’s understanding and the barest hint of pain in her voice and he realises with a dull thud that she hasn’t seen Blake since New Year. He’d forgotten…

Guilt finds him then; the knowledge that she’s been alone, missing her boyfriend and instead of having her friends support her, _she’s_ been the one trying to support them, holding them together, even though she must be hurting too.

“How do you do it?” he asks, voice cracking.

There’s a pause before Tori replies, her fingers hesitating in their stroking. “One day at a time.” She takes a breath, pulling back to give him a watery smile. “Just keep breathing. It… gets easier.”

“I don’t want it to get easier. I want him.”

His voice finally breaks and she draws him back into an embrace, shushing him gently. There’s the sound of footsteps from the living room and then another pair of arms wrap themselves around him and Tori, supporting them both. When the tears subside, it’s Dustin who guides them back to the sofa, who makes them hot chocolate and who finds a trashy film to have on in the background. As the three of them curl up together on the sofa Shane realises that while Hunter may be gone, he still has his family with him. And he loves them for it.

That evening marks a turning point, of sorts; a lifting of some of the grief and a releasing of some of the pressure that’s been tightening his chest, as if he’s been underwater, drowning, for weeks and finally he’s managed to raise his head above the surface enough to take a breath of fresh air. He isn’t okay, but he’s beginning to realise he will be, that there will be an end to this and he does have a future. Even if it’s a future without Hunter.

Despite that, it takes Tia’s birthday two months later to shatter his final remnants of self-obsession and remind him that he wasn’t the only one Hunter hurt when he left.

They’d promised her at New Year, Hunter and him, to take her to San Diego Zoo; their very own mini road trip. It becomes just the two of them, Shane picking her up from outside the family home with barely a word of greeting to his mother.

Tia’s excited to see him, chattering the whole way down to San Diego about what she’s been up to and how school’s been going and a dance competition she won in June that he hadn’t attended. Shane feels a twinge of guilt for his absence at what is an important part of his little sister’s life. He tries to pretend it’s his parents’ fault, that he doesn’t feel welcome at these events and his presence would have just been awkward and unfair on her, but if he’s being honest, Shane’d had trouble dealing with the nine-year-old’s reaction to Hunter’s departure. How can he explain to her why the blond has gone, when he doesn’t fully understand it himself?

“Is Hunter meeting us there?”

Tia’s question as they pull off the interstate comes out of the blue and he twists in his chair to see his little sister looking at him with guileless innocence. He shakes his head, pushing down the flutter of pain that threatens because he can’t deal with it today; today is about Tia.

“No, he’s not,” he says evenly, expecting her to react but she doesn’t, just nods and switches back to chatting about the animals she wants to see at the zoo. Shane’s surprised by her careless response, but too relieved to give it much thought as he finds a space to park his truck.

As Shane buys their entrance tickets he catches Tia watching the crowds, staring fiercely at people as they pass, as if looking for someone in particular. He has a moment of panic as he thinks she’s waiting for his parents, before remembering his mother had said something about being at a function that afternoon and he can breathe again. The last thing he wants is his parents trying to make this a family day. They haven’t been a family in years… but it’s a horrible thing to come to terms with.

Tia seems to have their whole route around the park planned and drags Shane from enclosure to enclosure, keeping up a steady babble throughout the morning. They’re looking at the tigers when her stomach lets out a rumble and Shane grins. “Lunch time?”

The dark curly head nods enthusiastically, slipping her hand into his and skipping along next to him. “I’m starving. Will Hunter have lunch with us too?”

“Tia…” Shane tries to keep the smile on his face but it feels more like a grimace, locked in place. “Hunter’s not coming.”

He braces himself for the tantrum but instead he’s met with a vague smile. “Okay,” she says, as if agreeing with him and then adds, “Can I have fries? Mom doesn’t let me have them now you’re not at home.”

“…Sure?” Shane is once again thrown by her calm acceptance and he treats her warily, still waiting for the explosion but by late afternoon there’s been no further mention of Hunter and Shane relaxes, enjoying the day with his sister and taking pleasure from her childish joy in the animals. They find themselves back at the entrance and the dark-haired man grins as he catches Tia trying to hide a yawn behind her hand.

“Home time?” he asks her, but she shakes her head furiously.

“Not yet,” she protests, pulling away from him.

Shane sighs. “But we’ve seen all the animals now. And I promised mom you wouldn’t be out too late. We still have to drive back to Blue Bay. Come on.”

He holds out a hand, waiting for her to take it with a grumble. Instead her face falls into a frown and she jams her hands in her pockets, shaking her head again.

The air ninja adopts a stern tone, “Tia, come on. We’re leaving.”

“No, don’t _wanna_ ,” she yells, throwing herself onto the ground in a huff and Shane’s painfully aware of the stares of passers-by, feeling his face turn red in embarrassment.

Looks like the tantrum he’s been expecting all afternoon has finally arrived.

He wants to yell at her, let her know she’s causing a scene, but from experience he knows that’ll only make things worse. And as much as he complains Tianna is annoying, this behaviour isn’t like her at all. She wouldn’t act up without good reason, though Shane is oblivious as to why. He rubs a hand across his face and takes a calming breath, crouching down to her level.

“Ti, what’s the matter?” he asks gently, taking her little hand in his.

She juts out her bottom lip and looks firmly at the ground, not wanting to answer him. The air ninja waits patiently, know she’ll reply in her own time. Finally she looks up at him and Shane is horrified to see his sister’s brown eyes filled with tears.

“He didn’t come,” she whispers. “He promised and he didn’t come.”

He doesn’t need to ask who.

“I told you he wasn’t,” Shane says helplessly, unsure how to deal with the upset little girl.

She sniffs. “I know. But I thought he might. I wanted him to be here.”

Her bottom lip trembles again and Shane pulls her into a hug, realising with sadness that she’s been looking forward to her birthday in the hope that Hunter would come back for it; come back for her.

“I’m sorry; I wanted him to be here too,” he murmurs and she pulls back to look up at him.

With all the wisdom of a nine-year-old, Tia replies, “He’ll come back. He will.”

She sounds so certain and there’s an ache in Shane’s chest, a desperate desire to believe her, but the adult within him knows it’s just a fantasy. But it’s a fantasy he’s willing to let her cling to for as long as possible.

“You know what this calls far?” he says, barely a tremble to his voice as he presses a kiss onto the top of her head. “Ice cream.”

She manages a grin at him and clings to his hand tightly as he helps her to her feet. Ice cream acquired, they finally leave the zoo without any further drama. Tia falls asleep in the car on the way home, leaving Shane in familiar silence, which he’s starting to hate. It’s oppressive and all-encompassing and he doesn’t want to live in silence anymore. 

He doesn’t go back to Hunter’s apartment that night. Instead he drops Tia off at her home – avoiding his parents – and finds his way to Tori’s; falling asleep in her arms as he has done many times since he realised that she understood, and that she was hurting too. Though their circumstances are very different, they both know the pain that comes from missing a lover, and they both know it’s night times that are the worst.

It’s the sorrow of going to bed alone; no strong arms holding you, wrapping you in warmth and comfort, no soft hair tickling your face, no gentle breath on your neck. No fighting for covers or waking up with a leg flung carelessly over yours. No being teased for snoring or teasing them for sleep-talking; no lazy, tender kisses nor fiery, electric ones that make you gasp and fall in love over and over again. No feeling another person’s heart beating; the rise and fall of their chest in sync with your own…

There’s just nothing.

And that’s hard to deal with.

A lot harder than Shane ever expected it could be. It scares him how quickly and easily he fell for Hunter, and how quickly he became attuned to the other man, so used to him being there. He never thought losing Hunter would be like losing a part of himself.

Sometimes he reaches out, in that moment between dreaming and waking, thinking Hunter is there, being so _sure_ he’s next to him but when consciousness dawns there’s just a cold, empty spot where his boyfriend should be, and the pain finds him again anew. A gut-wrenching, all-encompassing pain that leaves him shaking and crying. Some days he can pull himself together, swallow down the hurt and get on; other days the only thing he can do is draw his knees up to his chest, pull himself into as small a ball as possible and hide from the world.

Those days become less common as time goes by, but they can still blindside him. It can be the smallest of things; catching a whiff of someone wearing Hunter’s aftershave, the roar of a motorbike engine, the sight of a blond head in the crowd… and the pain is brought back to life.

He’s beginning to think he’ll never see Hunter again.

He needs something to cling onto, something to rekindle lost hope, something to believe in. It’s late August before that something appears.

After a long day of teaching at the Academy, Shane heads out for a run to clear his head. Even with the sun setting, the temperature has not dropped much, so Shane makes for the beach, hoping the evening sea breeze will take some edge off the heat. The boardwalk is busy and Shane soon tires of having to dodge around people, slowing to a walk to make his way through the crowds.

They thin out as he reaches the northern end of the boardwalk and the air ninja finds himself walking past the bench where he first kissed Hunter. He hasn’t been back since his boyfriend left and as he runs a hand across the storm-battered wooden surface, the pain returns; a dull ache this time, some of its sharpness lost, a blunted knife-edge.

Shane wonders if this is what it’s going to be like; the hurt fading until nothing remains but a distant memory.

Strangely he wants the pain back; he wants that feeling because it’s still _Hunter_ and without it… Without it, it would be like his last link to Hunter is gone. He’s losing his connections to him, slowly but surely everything is ebbing away until only thing remaining, the only thing he has left, is his grief. And now even that is leaving him and he doesn’t want to let it go.

Because the pain means it was real, it happened; for a brief while he’d found happiness and if it goes he will truly have nothing left of Hunter.

He drops heavily onto the bench, chin resting on his hands as he stares out across the sand to the sea beyond, barely visible in the grey twilight. His thoughts drift, focusing on nothing in particular, settling on no one thing, so he finds himself jumping in surprise when his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He pulls it free, staring at it for a moment before answering.

The caller ID reads ‘ _Blake_ ’. 


	12. Part 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has taken a while but it is the end! Almost... There is a small epilogue to go but thank you to everyone who's read it. Hope this chapter lives up to expectations.

The desert night air is cool and fresh, bordering on cold, as Hunter makes his way down the main street of Santa Luca. It’s late; the full moon high and bright in the crystal clear sky, bathing the empty road in a silver-grey glow.

The faint rumble of voices and sounds of laughter from the bar the blond has just left fade until the only noise is the soft pad of his feet on the tarmac and the susurrus of the wind that’s tickling his hair against his neck.

Despite the drop in temperature from the oppressiveness of the day, Hunter is still warm in his t-shirt, arms bare against the night. There’s a warmth in his stomach that spreads through him, an alcoholic glow from the beers Joe and Eduardo had pressed on him that evening.

He hadn’t wanted to join them at the bar to begin with, not when he’d first arrived in the small town. He’d shied away from their offers and friendly overtures, retreating each night to the tiny motel room alone. But as the weeks had dragged on, the loneliness started to bite and one not very unique day he’d caved, agreeing to join them, albeit reluctantly, for one drink. Which turned into two, and then into many. He’d ended up stumbling back to his room at some point in the early hours of the morning and waking up later the following day with one of the worst hangovers of his life.

But while he may have regretted the drinking, he had not regretted the evening. Joe and Eduardo had been surprising good company and, against his better judgement, he found himself back at the bar with them only a few nights later.

After that, their quiet evenings together had become routine, something safe and familiar that Hunter hadn’t even realised he was missing until he had it again. Friendship.

And it’s been so very easy to become friends with the two men. There’s a simplicity to their company that he finds appealing, an acceptance of him that he hasn’t had to fight for as well as an understanding – unspoken and unacknowledged – not to talk about the past. Or _his_ past, at least.

Eduardo and Joe, both veterans themselves, seemed to be under the impression that Hunter was military and, though he’d never confirmed their suspicions, he hadn’t the heart to correct the misconception. It was easier to go along with it; it gave an explanation for the otherwise inexplicable aspects of his character. And a reason for his silences. He knows he should feel guilty for misleading them, but after everything he’s been through, after everything he’s seen and done, a soldier isn’t too far off the truth.

Tonight had been much like any other, although with the exception of it being the end of the month and payday so perhaps a few more beers than was usual had been drank. Even though it was a Friday, Hunter had promised to help Joe the following morning with some essential work on a bike the older man had promised to return to Albuquerque by the middle of next week.

The road is long and straight; dipping past the motel and out into the desert beyond the town. It should be an easy walk back, but Hunter finds himself wishing he’d stopped a beer earlier as he weaves his way on and off the sidewalk. He puts a hand against the wall beside him to aid his balance, trailing his fingers along the rough brickwork as he continues his journey.

The phone box fixed to the building blocks his passage and he pauses briefly, inhibitions lowered by the alcohol flooding his system. He hesitates only a moment before dropping a quarter into the slot and starting to dial the number burned into his mind, the one he’s been dreaming of ringing for months now but has never had the courage to. Before he can finish dialling his mind catches up with his fingers and he freezes, realising how close he was to doing something very stupid. Cancelling the call, he retrieves the coin it has spit back out and takes a deep breath of the cool night air, the smell of heat still lingering long into the evening.

A different decision made in a split-second, and suddenly the coin is dropped back into the phone, a number dialled and there’s a ringing on the line before Hunter can fully acknowledge what he’s doing.

The phone keeps on ringing.

And ringing.

After a minute he breathes a sigh of relief. No one is answering. He can just hang up and no harm will have been done. But there’s a moment of hesitation, a twinge of disappointment and then a click on the other end…

“Blake Bradley speaking.”

His brother’s voice sounds weirdly professional, amazingly _grown-up_ , and Hunter is thrown for a moment, trying to reconcile his imagine of Blake with the voice on the phone. There’s a clenching around his heart and he stands frozen, muscles locked in indecision. He should hang up – he knows he should hang up – but his brother’s voice stills his arm.

“Hello? Who’s there? Can you hear me?”

Blake sounds confused and slightly exasperated, yet Hunter can’t bring himself to move; torn between slamming the phone down and giving in to his desire to speak up, to let Blake know it’s him. The blond squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm the different parts of his subconscious that are clamouring to be obeyed. His brother’s next words cause his heart to leap into his throat, eyes snapping open in horror.

“Hunter, is that you?”

_Oh crap_.

Blake knows.

Of course Blake knows; it must be pretty damn obvious by now who’s calling; it’s not as if Blake regularly gets random calls from people that don’t talk to him. His arm twitches, as if moving to drop the receiver but he doesn’t; fingers instead tightening on the handset and then Blake’s speaking again, so much hope and desperation put into his words that Hunter can’t, he just _can’t_ hang up on him.

“Please, if that’s you, say something,” the younger Bradley pleads, sounding much more like the Blake Hunter remembers.  “I’m not angry; I just want to know you’re okay. Please Hunter; it’s been over six months. Please, please just talk to me. _Talk to me_.”

Hunter can read worry and love in his brother’s voice and there’s a strange sort of relief flooding through him; a weight he did not realise he was carrying lifting slightly now he knows Blake’s not angry at him. Or if he is, he’s hiding it well. It’s enough to make the blond sag against the wall as the tension flows from him, the bricks still warm after a day of being baked in the sun.

“Blake…”

His voice is dry, throat tight and barely able to get his brother’s name out. But somehow he does and that single word, that confirmation that it is him, seems to be all the other man needs to hear.

 “Thank god, you’re alive. You’re okay,” Blake breathes, and there’s relief there too.  There’s a pause before his brother continues with the panic of someone who’s just thought of a worse-case scenario, “You _are_ okay, right? Please tell me you’re okay.”

The rush of emotions is over-whelming; reassurance, affection, comfort, loneliness and grief together in one tangled, sudden wave. All at once Hunter’s legs feel like jelly, unable to support his weight anymore and he slides his back down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, phone clutched tightly in his hand and the cord stretched above his head. He lets out a small chuckle at his brother’s panicked words, the immediate flood fading and leaving him light-headed and giddy.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I-” He has to pause, taking in a quick, shallow breath, getting past the sudden hitch in his chest. “I’m okay.”

“Where are you?”

He doesn’t know how to answer immediately, knowing that Blake will be in touch with the others. If not Shane directly, at least Tori. The realisation his brother would put other people above him now is a sobering one, dampening his mood and bringing him into the present. Finally he decides on a simple truth.

“I’m safe. Don’t worry about me; you know I can take care of myself.” He adopts what he hopes is an air of self-confidence, of casualness, of _carelessness_ ; but the act is a struggle. He hasn’t had to fake emotion in a while. He’s become too settled, too safe, yet he can’t find it in him to regret this fact. “How about you? League champion yet?”

“Not quite this year. Maybe next. I won Spring Creek though.”

The thunder ninja can hear the happiness in Blake’s voice and finds himself grinning, unable to hide his own pride at his little brother’s achievements as he replies, “I know; I saw on the tv.”

He has fond memories of that day, of sitting in the bar with Joe and Eduardo and Maria, drinking beers and enjoying the quiet companionship while the race played on the television in the corner. He’d tried feigning disinterest in it, for the sake of appearances, but as the laps dwindled away and Blake moved further up the field, he’d dropped all pretence of indifference and was avidly watching the race; eyes transfixed to screen, heart in his throat, stomach clenched with nerves as he willed his brother on. And when Blake crossed the line, cementing his first place finish, the blond hadn’t been able to stop the whoop of joy he’d let out, much to the surprise and amusement of his companions.

Even now, remembering the looks on the others’ faces brings a smile to his lips.

 “I wish you’d have been there.”

Blake’s soft words cut through his recollections, dousing the warmth of the memory with ice-water.

He doesn’t know how to respond, the silence dragging on into the darkness. Hunter can feel the miles that separate them, and not just physically. There’s a distance, a barrier, between them that wasn’t there before. In some ways he feels like the man on the other end of the line is a stranger, someone he doesn’t know anymore. Or maybe it’s Hunter that’s now the stranger. Maybe it’s _him_ who’s changed.

“Why did you do it?” Blake suddenly explodes and the raw emotion, the pain, contained in his tone sends frozen daggers into Hunter’s stomach. “Why did you run? Why didn’t you _tell_ me? You could have told me you were worried or having doubts or… or… Why didn’t you _trust_ me?”

Hunter freezes, his grip tightening on the receiver and his other hand curling into a fist, nails digging in to his palm as if the sensation of physical pain can somehow ground him. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to answer his brother’s accusations. He wants to say Blake’s wrong; that he _does_ trust him, that he hadn’t spoken to him because there had _been_ nothing to speak about and when there was it had happened so fast he hadn’t had time and Blake wasn’t there and it’s not as if he’d have been able to fix it anyway. It was broken-

_No, it wasn’t_.

It wasn’t broken until Hunter broke it.

_It was going to break_ , he reminds himself, _It wasn’t going to last_.

But he can’t explain that to his brother. Blake wouldn’t understand; he’d say Hunter was being stupid, over-reacting, _freaking out_ over nothing and he’d be wrong… Because Hunter knows better. Hunter always knows better.

He has to believe that. If he doubts himself, then everything will crumble. He needs to be right about this.   

The thunder ninja squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to centre himself after his brother’s outburst. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you.”

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, a barely-concealed snort, choked off before it can really begin and Hunter can imagine the look on Blake’s face; disapproval mingled with fond exasperation. He allows his eyes to slowly open, resting his head back against the wall and staring up at the stars far above him, pin points of white light dotted across the deep black canvas, twinkling and shimmering and _blurring_ and his eyes feel damp and-

_Dammit, Hunter Bradley does **not** cry.._.

He takes a breath, struggling to get the words out around the tightness that has returned to his throat. “I just… It wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay. I had to get away, leave, before-” He has to bite back the words, stop himself. The urge to tell Blake everything is so strong he almost gives in but somehow he restrains the impulse, finishing simply with, “I had to go.”

He knows it isn’t enough; that it will never _be_ enough to satisfy Blake but he hopes it’ll do for now. It’s all he can give.

His brother seems to realise that as the younger man’s next words are a tactful change of subject; “When are you coming home? I miss you. We’ve all been missing you. Shane-” 

“I can’t Blake,” he says, fighting to keep his voice level. There’s a rushing in his ears, his heart starting to thump painfully in his chest as _something_ strains against the binds he’d put on it. A name.

_Shane_.

 “Hunter-”

Something deep within him snaps, a torrent of emotions released, surging over him, pulling him down towards the pit he’d barely dragged himself out from, slowly, over many painful days and long, dark nights.

“I _can’t_ Blake. Please, I can’t.”

The blond stands abruptly, putting a hand against the wall to steady himself, head spinning from the sudden rush of blood after being motionless for so long. 

“I- I’m sorry. Tell Sh- Tell him I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know how he gets those final words out; he barely remembers hanging up the phone and stumbling back to the room which has become his home over the past few months. He doesn’t remember unlocking the door or walking inside. There’s nothing but a swirling well of blackness for a very long time.

When he comes back to himself he’s huddled in a ball at the bottom of the shower, knees drawn up to his chest and arms hugging them tightly. The white tiles are hard against his back; the lukewarm water a pathetic trickle slowly soaking through his clothes.

A part of him thinks he’s losing himself.

Another part of him knows he’s already lost.

Eyes stare blankly at the floor, the water purling around the plughole and forming little eddies that wash against his unfeeling feet.

Which are bare, he notes with disinterest. He must’ve managed to discard his shoes before entering the shower, so there’s something.

He feels exhausted and numb; the tide of raw emotion is still there, still bubbling beneath the detachment, but he can’t focus on it. Even after six months, _this_ is what the thought of Shane can do to him.

_Shane…_

_Fuck_.

There’s a rising lump in his throat, a constriction of his chest and he closes his eyes; one hand coming up to cover his mouth as if he can force down the sob that threatens. He’s done so well up to now; he’s moved on and kept everything together, kept going and not fallen apart like he’s wanted to, kept all these stupid _feelings_ locked down, packed away in a tidy little box in the back of his mind, let it gather dust and resisted the urge to peek. Not even once because he knew this would happen and-

Why was he so _stupid_? What the hell was he thinking, phoning Blake? He knew – he must’ve known – that all it would do is dredge up the past, rip the lid off the box and spill all these horrible, messy emotions back over him, tear him apart all over again and now- He can’t put them back. He’s trying, but they’re large and vicious and the box seems to have shrunk. They won’t go back in as easily as they came out, not without a fight.

And Hunter is so _tired_.

Tired of running.

Tired of fighting and trying and pretending to be normal when he isn’t.

Tired of being a broken, emotional wreck.

_Tired of being lonely_.

He isn’t ok with being by himself. He knows that now. He’s never truly had to be; there was always Blake and when he was gone there was Shane and now… Now there’s no one and he wasn’t prepared for how much that would hurt. How much it _does_ hurt.  

It’s the little things that get to him. That remind him what he’s missing.

He’s craving… contact. Real, meaningful _human_ contact. Not even sex (although yes, he’s missing that too. He’s _allowed_ to), just a connection with another person.

He hasn’t got so bad he’s tried to seek comfort in someone else, though he knows he could. Joe and Eduardo always tell him exactly what some of the local women have been saying about him and Hunter’s not easily embarrassed (in fact, he’s pretty damn unshockable) but it’s been enough to make him blush, much to the two veterans’ amusement. The blond’s politely declined some subtle – and one definitely not subtle – advances. And it’s not just because he hasn’t been tempted; he has. The urge to find solace in another’s arms, even for a night, has sometimes been overwhelming but he’s always stopped himself. Always taken a step back and resisted. It’s just… it would feel like he’s betrayed Shane. Crossed some sort of final line and he can’t… he hasn’t been able to do that.

And maybe it’s his own punishment; to be denied something he craves. But he knows a one-night-stand – a fling – would never give him what he wants. Never be enough to fill the gaping void in his chest where his heart should be.

The water turns cold; a chill settling over him and Hunter focuses on that, on the way his hands are still pressed into fists, on the ice seeping into his toes, on the physical sensations, the goose pimples prickling across his skin and the shivers starting to run down his spine, separating himself from the river of emotions and slowly – painstakingly – locking them back away.

But the box is fragile now; battered and damaged, held together with paper-thin tape and broken string. A temporary reprieve only.

He knows he should run. He should get up and grab his still-packed bag and he should leave. Move on and get away before he’s found. Now he’s contacted Blake it can only be a matter of time after all.

But the tiredness is back and the desire to run is fleeting; he watches it fade with a numb indifference, the impulse washing away with the liquid trickling down the drain.

Finally he risks a deeper breath to find the tightness in his chest has eased and he stands, steadying himself against the water-slicked tiles, legs aching with cold and disuse; pins and needles shooting down to his feet as the blood returns. It’s with fingers that are stiff and numb he manages to turn the shower off and pull his sodden clothes off his body, allowing them to fall in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Dragging himself into the main room he finds the sun already peeking through the gap in the curtains, a blinding shaft of light cutting across the bed and bouncing off the far wall.

He doesn’t know if he can sleep, but the exhaustion leaching through him is already pulling him into its deep and dreamless embrace. He surrenders, collapsing face down onto his bed and not stirring until the blare of his alarm finally works its way into his unconscious mind.  

_XxX_

“Rough night?” Joe asks with a laugh when Hunter finally drags himself into work that morning, but the elderly mechanic’s jovial grin fades when he catches a proper look at the blond’s face.

Hunter knows he must look a state; pale and drawn with dark, tired lines beneath his eyes. His whole body aches, cramped and sore from waking up in the shower the night before. He’s not sure how long he actually managed to sleep for, but it wasn’t enough to rid his body of the lethargy still lingering in his veins.

“Go home, kid,” the old soldier says softly, an expression of not pity – never pity – but of understanding settling across his worn features. “Get some rest; things will be better tomorrow.”

“How the hell do you know?” Hunter snaps back, voice raw and bitter and he instantly regrets his words. He has no right to be angry at Joe, just as he has no right to stand here and accept the other man’s sympathy. He doesn’t deserve it; he hasn’t earned it. He isn’t the soldier Joe thinks he is.

But the mechanic doesn’t appear phased by Hunter’s outburst, reaching out to rest a hand gently on the blond’s arm, a genteel smile gracing his weathered face.

“Tomorrow is another day.”

_XxX_

Tomorrow arrives and departs uneventfully, as does the day after, and the one after that; each one as constant and ordinary as any that have come before. August fades and gives way to September, the new month bringing with it nothing but more days of burning sunshine and a cloudless, unrepentant sky.

Hunter hasn’t acted on his urge to run. He can feel the restlessness building; a tension in his shoulders and a prickling at the back of his neck. His feet are itching, as his brother used to say. He knows it’s time to move on, but he hasn’t. And he isn’t sure why.

The day everything changes starts no differently to any he’s had in Santa Luca. But as he makes his way to the garage that morning, the sun already beating down on the parched earth, something makes him pause.

A hint; the faintest stirring of something familiar in the back of his mind and he shoots a glance up to the cerulean sky above. It appears normal, but he can feel the pressure starting to change and the almost-forgotten sensation of moisture beginning to gather high above, clouds coalescing in the thin atmosphere. There’s the barest smell of ozone on the dying breeze and the slightest tingle in his palm; a feeling of energy, of strength, of _electricity_ …

A storm is coming.

When he mentions this to Maria at lunch she just laughs at him; the weather isn’t meant to break for a week or more at least, according to the news, and the usual sudden-but-powerful summer storms that normally roll through the desert have been conspicuously absent this year, so she has no reason to trust his word. But he knows he’s right. The pressure is still building; he can feel it behind his eyes and in the increasing prickling in his palms. A thunder ninja is never wrong about storms.

Late afternoon finds Hunter elbow-deep in the engine of an old Ford pickup, hood propped open to prevent it falling on his head as he tinkers with the engine, each movement coating his hands and lower arms with oil and dirt. Joe has taken the motorbike back to Albuquerque as planned, taking his apprentice with him so the blond is taking advantage of the rare quiet to lose himself in his work.    

His back aches faintly from hours of being bent over, sweat dripping from his forehead and running down between his shoulder blades. He’d flung the garage doors wide open to tempt in some cooler air, but the soft breeze that was around this morning has faded away completely leaving the fan whirring away contentedly to itself in the corner Hunter’s only respite. It merely moves the already-hot air around lazily, barely causing a ripple in the room.

The blond sighs, pausing to wipe the back of his hand across his eyes, and then has to grab a towel to rub off the trail of grime he’s succeeded in smearing over his brow. He uses the break to straighten out the kinks in his spine and grab a quick swig of water, leaning against the doorframe and letting his gaze fall upon the desert beyond the back yard. An eerie stillness has descended; a thick blanket of quiet lying thick across the landscape and muting all sounds. Even the crickets have ceased their constant chatter and the local dogs have slunk indoors. They can feel it too; the calm before the storm.

Hunter returns to the engine and tries to absorb himself in his work but there’s a tension to the air, an agitation and an expectation.

A shadow passes across the door behind him and there’s a scent being carried to him by the fan’s languid revolutions; a smell of freshness, of spring breeze and a hint of ocean air…

His grip tightens around the wrench in his hand and he straightens up, removing his head from under the hood but keeping his back to the intruder. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

The reply is quiet, the low voice so familiar and so affecting it sends shivers running through him. He hasn’t realised how much he’s missed it.

It’s enough to make him want to run to him and away from him in equal measure. But he does neither. Instead Hunter forces himself to be still, taking a couple of deep breaths before turning around to meet those chocolate brown eyes.

The sight of Shane is like a cool balm on raw, irritated skin; his stomach twisting in the way it always used to do when he saw his ex-lover. For a long moment all Hunter can do is stare, reconciling the living image of the man in front of him with the one he’s been carrying in his mind for the past few months. At first they swim and blur before his eyes, but as Hunter manages to focus on Shane – on the real Shane – he can see lines on the air ninja’s face that were not there before; tiredness and sorrow marking him. Scars left by wounds barely healed. Wounds, Hunter realises, that were caused by him.

His immediate instinct is to go to him, to take him in his arms and kiss him until every wound is gone, until Shane is whole and healed and happy again; the way he was before he met Hunter. But he doesn’t. He _can’t_. Some things can’t be undone.

Some things shouldn’t be undone.

Instead he adopts a harshness to his voice, asking, “How did you find me?”

Shane moves into the room, stepping lightly across the threshold but maintaining the distance between them. He runs a hand over the workbench, dragging his fingers lightly over the tools scattered on its surface, eyes taking in the surroundings.

Hunter finds himself watching every move the air sensei makes, unable to drag his gaze away from the other man.

“The lady at the motel said I’d find you here. Or she said I’d find a man called York. Who else could it be?” A small smile tugs at the darker man’s lips. “York? …Really? I’d have put you down more as Carolina.”

Hunter frowns, ignoring the barely disguised jibe. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Shane fires back snappishly, and an awkward silence falls, broken only by the distant sound of a car passing by outside; existing in a different world to the two men in the garage.

Hunter folds his arms self-consciously and waits.

“Cam,” Shane says at last. “Well, Blake really. He said you’d phoned him and then Cam did his tech-wizardry and back-traced your call or something like that. Found the phone box you used and the name of the town. That was all I needed. Jumped in the car and drove out here. Was just hoping you’d still be here when I arrived.”

There’s a dull thud deep within Hunter’s chest as he realises Shane has driven half-way across the country on only the slimmest of hopes that he’d find him; that he’d travelled hundreds of miles into the unknown just for him.

“Why have you come?” he asks, raising a hand to rub it across his tired eyes but catching himself just before he wipes more dirt over his face.

“Because I want to know!” The words suddenly erupt from Shane’s mouth, fierce and desperate. “I need to know why you left; why you left _me_. Why you didn’t say goodbye. What did I do?” His eyes find Hunter’s then, bright and angry. “What did I do to make you leave?”

Unable to maintain the eye-contact, Hunter swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the dusty concrete floor. “Nothing.”

There’s a barely disguised sigh of disappointment from the other man and then Shane’s voice reaches his ears, annoyance breaking through the cracks, “Oh come on, Hunter. I know something happened. I know my father had something to do with it. I know he said something to you. What was it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the blond mutters, glancing off the side, eyes coming to rest on the tools lining the wall, detachedly noting a screwdriver missing from the rack.

 “Yes it does,” Shane snarls at him and Hunter flinches at the air sensei’s pained tone. “It matters to me. You left me, Hunter. You left and you didn’t say goodbye and for six months I haven’t known why or where you were or even if you were alive. You owe me an answer. At the very least, you owe me this.”

The words ring in Hunter’s ears, bitter and bruised and wanting.

_You owe me…_

“Your father told me what you hadn’t,” Hunter barks out, abruptly tiring of the charade and deciding to go on the offensive. “You got into Stanford. That was your dream and you… You didn’t even tell me. You worked so hard and I didn’t even know you’d applied,” the blond finds himself yelling, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush. “You didn’t tell me. I had to find out from your _father_ and no wonder he hated me if he thought you’d given up college for me. Because that’s what you did, didn’t you? You didn’t go to Stanford because of me- because of _us_. And you didn’t even tell me.”

“Because it was none of your business,” Shane snaps back, eyes blazing and his hands forming fists at his side.

Hunter’s jaw clenches at the other man’s words. “I was _dating_ you, Shane. Of course it was my business. You made a huge life decision and you didn’t tell me about it. You didn’t care enough about our relationship to share. I thought being with someone meant not keeping secrets, that if you cared you talked to them about important stuff. You didn’t talk to me. I guess that says it all.”

He doesn’t know where the words are coming from; months of unvoiced, pent up emotions finally finding a form.

Shane’s glaring at him, mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he manages, “You broke up with me because I didn’t tell you about Stanford?”

There’s incredulity in his tone and Hunter understands how petty, how childish, he sounds.

“No,” he says, the fight draining from him, being replaced by a lassitude which dulls his anger and leaves him weary. “Not because you didn’t tell me, but because you didn’t go.”

And that seems to bring Shane up short, the air sensei rendered momentarily speechless; confusion flooding across his face.

The blond gives him a small, sad smile as he adds, “It was everything you wanted and you… gave it up.”

“Because I wanted to be with you-”

“And how long would that have lasted?” Hunter fires back, cutting Shane off.

The darker man steps back as if he’d been slapped, and then the confusion returns. “I don’t understand… There was nothing… We were _together_. I cared about you. You _knew_ that. Fuck, I said I _loved_ you. What more did you want from me? Did I do something to make you think it wasn’t going to last?” He fixes the blond with a look that Hunter tries to shy away from; the blond answering his questions with silence. “Look, I just… I need to know. I need to know why. _Why_ Hunter? Why did you run? I need an answer. Just… be honest with me, _please_.”

And he’s begging now, brown eyes haunted and big and sad and never leaving Hunter’s face. The blond wants to turn away from him, to hide from those accusing eyes, but he can’t. All he can do is stand there as Shane pleads with him, wanting to hear from his ex-boyfriend why he abandoned him. Why he left. And Hunter can’t bear it.

“I didn’t want you to wake up and realise you’d wasted your life with me.”

The truth slips from Hunter’s lips before he can stop himself and then it’s there, in the open, standing between them. Hunter finds himself trembling and he lets his eyes slide away from Shane, focus anywhere but on the man standing across from him. When he does finally risk a glance up it’s to see Shane staring at him in shock.

The blond shakes his head, tempering his tone. “You deserve so much more than me, Shane. Go home, go to college; live the life you were meant to lead.”

A wave of conflicting emotions surge across the air sense’s face, flickering by so quickly Hunter can’t get a solid read on any one of them. And then his expression clears, a blank mask covering his features and giving Hunter nothing. The darker man stares at the thunder ninja for a long time, causing Hunter to shift uncomfortably under the weight of those brown eyes. When he does speak, Shane’s voice is cold and hard.

“How dare you? How dare you tell me what I deserve? You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. You… You never even asked me what I wanted. I do want college, just not yet. It’s too soon. After everything- That year with Lothor changed me. Being an engineer was my father’s dream and I wanted some _time_. To just figure out what I wanted and you… You were a huge part of that but godammit,” he exclaims, anger finding him again. “You weren’t the only reason. I had the Wind Academy; I was finding _my_ way. I was happy.” Hunter can see him blinking furiously at his suddenly over-bright eyes and his voice drops to a whisper as he repeats. “I was happy.” There’s another, brief pause and then Shane seems to find renewed strength, continuing, “And even if I had gone to college… Did you think that would have stopped us being together? That I’d what? Suddenly realise I was straight? People normally discover their sexuality at college, not repress it further.” He’s shaking his head, as if coming to a decision, “No, this is about more than college.”

Hunter ignores the sudden churning in his stomach and the persistent nagging in the back of his mind that’s telling him the other man is right. This has gone on long enough; he has to stop this, end it, break it for good. “It wasn’t working, Shane. I don’t lov-”

“Liar,” Shane interrupts fiercely. “Don’t you say that. I know that’s not true. If I thought you didn’t love me, I’d never have come. But I _know_ you do. Because if this had been about you not caring, you wouldn’t have left. You’re not a coward, Hunter. If you didn’t care you’d have broken my heart and stayed around for the fallout. But you didn’t. You ran. And I have to know why. Please, Hunter, just tell me.”

Shane’s eyes never leave his ex-lover’s face, but it’s his father’s words that echo around Hunter’s head, each repetition sending a dull chill through his stomach; the twisting in his gut is becoming nauseous and dizzying.  

“ _Are you worth it_?”

                  “ _Are you **worth** it_?”

                                      “ _Are **you** worth it_?”

_No_ …

He knows Shane’s right.  That thing he’s been running from, that niggling at the back of his mind; it hasn’t been the air ninja. It’s been all on him. All about him. All _his_ doubts, all _his_ fears, worried about Shane leaving _him_ ….

“I don’t deserve you.”

The confession is barely a whisper, almost lost beneath the drone of the fan, and Hunter scuffs his toe along the floor, gaze following the line he draws in the grime coating the ground.

“Well that’s your problem not mine.”

Hunter’s eyes snap up to meet Shane’s, seeing no trace of the anger he was expecting on the other man’s face. Instead there’s just a solemn, almost melancholy expression, a statement of fact instead of an impassioned declaration.

He shakes his head, biting back a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

_I don’t want to drag you down with me._

“You already have,” the dark haired man exclaims, whether answering Hunter’s spoken remark or unvoiced sentiment the blond isn’t sure, but the truth of Shane’s words is written on his skin; the lines and scars and haunted eyes a silent testament to the damage wrought on him by the thunder ninja’s actions.                                                    

“So why the hell have you come after me?”

The blond’s words reverberate around the small garage and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, half turning away before Shane’s reply pulls him back to face him.

“Because I’m not willing to give up on us,” the air sensei shouts back, his words leaving a trail of discomfort in their wake.

It’s Hunter’s turn to stare in shock and Shane sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in irritation.

“I don’t want you to be the best thing that never happened to me,” Shane continues, quieter now. Calmer. “I don’t want you to be that guy, the one I compare everyone else to and find wanting because they’re not you. I don’t want you to be my ‘what if?’; the person I’m always wondering about what my life would be like if only I’d _tried_. If only I’d fought harder for you. I don’t want to wonder; I want to _know_. I love you, Hunter.”

“ _Why_?”

The single word is harsh and sharp, a whiplash falling into sudden silence.

It is, Hunter realises as soon as the echoes die away, the heart of the matter. Everything in his short life has taught him love is not unconditional, love is not kind. Love bites you in the ass and tears everything from you, leaving you an empty, broken shell. Hunter’s done everything in his power to be unlovable because- Well, _because_. He doesn’t want love. He doesn’t need love.

_He doesn’t deserve love_.

So how the hell can Shane love him?

The air sensei seems to know this too as he stares at the blond for what feels like forever, an unreadable expression on his face. When he does speak, his words are serious and solemn.

“Because you’re worth loving.”

There’s a jolt through Hunter’s body, an almost physical flinch as he tries to shy away from what Shane is saying. But as if sensing the thunder ninja’s sudden reluctance, Shane presses on, driving his point home with razor-sharp honesty.

“There’s millions of things I could say, reasons I could give you as to why I love you. Things like, oh hell… Your smile. The way my knees go weak when you turn it on me. Or maybe that my heart skips a beat every single time you walk into a room. Every. Time. You’d think I’d have got used to seeing you but it’s like the first time all over again. I get butterflies when you look at me, even now. Even when I’m mad at you I still love you. I love how you get me. I love that I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you. That nothing else matters as long as you’re by my side…” Shane takes a breath, chest heaving slightly before he gives a small smile and a shake of his head. “But you know all that. I know you do. I need to tell you something you don’t know. It’s something you _should_ know but maybe no one’s told you before. _Obviously_ no one’s told you before and maybe _I_ should have said it to you by now and I’m sorry I haven’t. I’m sorry you don’t know it. I just assumed-” The air ninja breaks off with a little laugh, running a hand across his short hair; a gesture that is instantly and heart-wrenchingly familiar to the blond. “People don’t normally need to be told this…”

_Normal people don’t need to be told this_.

The sentiment is unspoken, but Hunter can hear the implications Shane is not putting voice to. More than that, he knows they’re true.

“You’re worth loving, Hunter.”

The blond shifts uneasily at Shane’s words, denial springing to his lips before he can really think about what his ex-lover is saying, what he _means_. Because he can’t believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it. It goes against everything he knows, everything he was certain of. He can feel the very tenets his whole being is built on falter and crumble, pushing him inexorably to the edge of his patience. And possibly his sanity. There’s a strange rushing in his ears, his heart thumping painfully against his sternum and he just… he _can’t_ believe him.

“You’re wrong,” Hunter spits out and then he’s turning, stumbling away from Shane and out of the garage into the small yard at the rear. He takes a couple of deep, gasping breaths, trying to calm himself but the air is thick and cloying, choking him. Looking up he can clouds pouring across the sky, dark and angry, filled with intent.  

 “You trusted me in battle.”

The words are quiet, gentle even, and Hunter doesn’t need to turn around to know Shane has followed him. The sense of the other man’s presence is an almost solid force at his back. He stiffens, hands balling into fists at his sides, as Shane continues.

“You trusted me to make the right calls, to lead the team; you trusted me with our lives- with _Blake’s_ life… But you won’t trust me with this. You won’t- you _don’t_ trust me.”

There’s a terrible hollowness to Shane’s voice that makes Hunter close his eyes, trying to fight back the bile that’s risen in his throat. Blake’s words from the other day ghost across his mind; _“_ _Why didn’t you **trust** me?”_ … But that’s not-

“This isn’t about trust,” Hunter manages to get out, the words sticking uncomfortably. Standing there in the yard, surrounded by broken rusted metal and staring out at the desert beyond the fence he can feel the full weight of Shane’s gaze upon his back. The strengthening breeze ruffles his hair, bringing with it a hint of moisture and the bitter, metallic smell of ozone.

“Yes it is,” the air ninja says strangely calm; not accusing, just stating a fact. “You don’t believe me; you don’t believe you’re worth loving. And by not believing me you’re saying you don’t trust me. _You_ don’t trust _me_. After everything.”

And there’s pain there; hurt and sadness combined with… disappointment? As if the other man is coming to accept something he hasn’t wanted to believe and Hunter… feels suddenly like he’s letting Shane down. That this is all on him and he- He’s failed, somehow. Shane put everything into their relationship, Shane _trusted_ him, and Hunter’s thrown that trust straight back in his face.

He doesn’t want to turn around and face the other man. He doesn’t want to see the expression on the air ninja’s face but he forces himself to; knowing the hurt his actions have caused… He has to take responsibility. He has to at least give Shane the courtesy of acknowledging how much pain he is inflicting.  

His expression even more heart-wrenching that Hunter imagined.

“You don’t trust me,” Shane repeats, sorrow haunting his words. “You don’t trust me to know what I want. You don’t trust me when I say you’re worth loving. You don’t trust me when I say I love you. I don’t… I don’t know what else I can do.”

There’s so much _defeat_ in his ex-lover’s tone it clenches around Hunter’s heart and he asks resignedly, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to come home with me. I want you to _be_ with me,” Shane says, sounding every bit as forlorn and tired as Hunter feels. He bites his lip, shaking his head before finishing softly with, “I want- I want you to let me love you.”

A gust of hot, dry wind roars in from the desert, whipping Hunter’s hair into his eyes and tugging viciously on his clothes before vanishing again as suddenly as it arrived. He feels worn; all wrung out and empty. Everything he thought he knew, everything he was certain of, is gone and he… He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t _know_ anything except one last truth, one undeniable reality.

“Everyone always leaves.”

The words fall into stillness; the oppressive heat deadening their impact. But they still draw out a sliver of pain from deep within the thunder ninja and in that moment it’s not Hunter speaking; it’s the child, the bewildered little boy who’s just seen his parents – the parents that wanted him – murdered in front of his eyes; it’s the serious teenager, old before his time, unable to deal with the sting of rejection, the pain of first love, and retreating into himself, putting up walls to seal himself away from future hurt; it’s all his deepest fears and worries finally breaking through his carefully constructed barriers.

Shane is suddenly there in front of him, understanding and sadness on his face, so close they’re almost touching but the air ninja is holding back, unwilling to reach out and close the gap between them and Hunter knows it’s all on him. His decision. His choice.

“Do you love me?”

There’s a gentle curiosity on the air sensei’s face; his words a raft to cling onto in the torrent that threatens to pull Hunter under.

He wants to tell him it’s not that simple, that it doesn’t matter if he loves Shane because it’s not about that. It’s about Shane loving him and Shane leaving him.

_Shane didn’t leave. Shane came here for him_.

But there’s a pressure on his chest and every time he opens his mouth the thick, hot air floods in choking him and he can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t _think_. His head is spinning, the world tilting in front of his eyes and blood pounding in his ears.

“Hunter, look at me.”

Shane’s quiet demand, an order, is almost obeyed immediately, without conscious thought, but Hunter stops himself, glancing away to the side before their eyes can meet. The fleeting look is enough to see that the air ninja is even closer than before, face mere inches away from Hunter’s but he’s not reaching out, he’s not touching him. Shane won’t – can’t – make that move; it has to be Hunter.

The darker man keeps talking; the words at first grounding him but then, as their meaning becomes clear, cutting him loose, adrift on a turbulent sea.

“I can’t promise you anything, Hunter. I don’t know if we’ll be together always. Ninja powers don’t stretch to predicting the future. All I know is right now, in this moment, I love you. _I_ love _you_. And if I don’t at least try to make things right between us I will regret it for the rest of my life. Please don’t be my ‘what if’. Don’t let me be yours. Please, Hunter; I love you…”

The pure, honest feelings and truth pouring from the other man finally tears open the fragile box of emotions, releasing them once again to smash themselves against his already battered body.

_“Are you worth it?”_

_“Because you’re worth loving_.”

The words tumble across his mind, mixing and twisting; a multitude of voices chiming together in a cacophony that threatens to drive him to his knees.

_“Are you **worth** it?”_

_“Because you’re **worth**_ _loving.”_

And above them both the first crack of thunder rolls across the sky.

The storm has arrived.

_Loving…_

**_Love…_ **

Hunter’s eyes finally meet Shane’s, lightning flashing in their depths and all his restraint breaking as the first heavy drops of rain begin to fall, sending up clouds of dust as they impact the moisture-deprived earth.

_I love you._

 “…Fuck.”

He closes the small distance between him and Shane, his lips finding the other man’s, finally giving in, surrendering to the desire he’s been trying to resist since the other man walked back into his life . The kiss is messy; needy and unrefined but Shane responds in the same way, pressing his body hard against Hunter’s, one hand coming up to twine his fingers through the hair at the top of thunder ninja’s neck as he deepens the kiss.

Hunter wishes this moment could last forever.

But when the need for oxygen becomes too much, they’re forced to pause, gasping but bodies still pressed together, neither one willing to break the contact first.

“So that’s a yes then?” Shane murmurs against Hunter’s lips and he draws back slightly to look him in the eyes. There’s so much hope, so much promise shining out of them that the blond is at once amazed and terrified.

“No expectations?” he whispers, breath catching in his throat.

Shane presses his forehead against Hunter’s, ignoring the rainwater running in rivulets down their faces. His hands come to rest on the other’s hips, thumbs rubbing small circles of comfort through the blond’s soaked shirt.

“Nothing but you and me and-” he hesitates for a split second before continuing, breath warm against Hunter’s skin. “It’s just… It’s okay if you freak out but I’d like you to talk to me. Be honest with me. That’s all I’ll ask. And if you need to get away, that’s okay too. You can tell me; I won’t stop you. I don’t need to come with you. I don’t need to know where you’re going or even how long you’ll be gone for. I don’t need you to send me postcards or keep me updated about every little thing… I just need to know you’re alive. Let me know you’re okay every once in a while. I need to know you’re okay. Because not knowing? Almost killed me.”

The admission is a painful reminder of just how much he’s hurt Shane with his stupidity. Guilt wells up in him and he presses kisses to the air ninja’s mouth, temples, forehead, neck… Anywhere he can reach while whispering his apologies, knowing it isn’t enough. “I’m sorry; I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“Is that a yes?” Shane asks again, voice hoarse. “Will you come home and be with me?”

Breaking away slightly, Hunter looks up at the taller man from beneath the rain sheeting down on them. There’s a brief, brilliant flash of lightning and then Hunter makes his choice.

“Okay,” he breathes, and then pulls away as Shane starts chuckling; a deep, throaty laugh that resonates in Hunter’s chest. The blond gives him a wary look, unsure what it is he said that is so amusing to the other man. “What?”

He’s struck with a strange sense of déjà vu as the taller man responds with, “Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?”

Shane’s tone light and it sounds almost as if he’s quoting- _Oh_. Now he gets it.

Hunter finds himself smiling back at him; a natural, unforced smile that feels so right on his face. Through the gloom of night brought on by the storm, the blond reaches up to brush his fingers lightly against Shane’s water-slicked cheek, marvelling at how the other man turns into his touch, amazed at how easily Shane lets him, even after everything.

“Do you want me to say anything else?” he says softly, gaze tracing the droplets of rain running down Shane’s neck and over his collarbone, slipping down beneath his shirt; the soaked material clinging to the air ninja’s torso in a way that reminds Hunter just how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed _him_.

“No!”

Shane’s  exclamation is punctuated with another flash of lightning and then his lips are back on Hunter’s, demanding and desperate as thunder rolls across the sky; the power and energy of the storm vibrating through the blond, his heart beating in time to the rain thudding down onto them, his whole body alive with electricity.

A part of Hunter knows he should care that they’re soaked through, he should care that the storm is increasing in ferocity and he should mind the mud pooling around his feet but he doesn’t. All he can think about is Shane. Shane’s lips and Shane’s hands and body and heart and mind, which are _his_.

As the sky erupts around them, nothing else matters to him but the man in his arms; the man he loves and who loves him back.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't forgotten about this. Life just got a little busy but here (finally!) is the epilogue. I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The road stretches across the flat earth, reaching out towards the distant, unseen ocean as if it goes on forever; a sliver of obsidian cutting through the landscape with the sharpest precision.

On the horizon hulks of rock jut out against the sky, red and sharp in the clear, crisp morning air. Fingers of the earth itself stretching out to caress the azure expanse, reaching up to where only hawks dare soar; dark specks circling on the thermals rising from the desert below. Pools of water lie shimmering in the dips and hollows of the ground, reflecting the blue above in their tranquil surface.

The red pickup makes its way slowly, unhurriedly, onwards through the once-barren land, a bike strapped to the flatbed of the truck and the windows wound down; a refreshing breeze dancing in and ruffling the hair of the two occupants, bringing with it scents of the outside, of sunshine and petrichor.

The blond man in the passenger seat stares out at the passing landscape, one sun-browned arm resting down the side of the vehicle, blue eyes untroubled and whole body loose and relaxed. The desert mirrors his mood; bright and light and carefree.

As if sensing his companion's thoughts, the dark-haired driver lets one hand drop from the wheel onto the other's thigh, the blond's own hand sliding over it, fingers entwining. Their eyes meet only briefly, but the smile they share in that moment is soft and intimate; happy and contented.

The tarmac is solid and smooth beneath the wheels, the road washed clean by the recent downpour. The sun has reappeared since then, its strength undiminished but its effects less keenly felt; the storm having cleared the heaviness from the air and leaving in its wake a freshness, a cleanness, a freedom to breathe that was not there before.

And with the break in weather comes the end of summer, the heralding in of autumn and with it a change in situation; a change in fortune.

The miles pass with a wonderful timelessness; the landscape unvarying, seeming almost eternal.

Then, almost imperceptively, the low rolling hills start to flatten, the pillars of red rock falling behind them until the empty plain is all that can be seen for miles around. Bushes and plants that were once pale shadows of what they could be, dust-covered and insubstantial, are now standing proud; leaves clean and bright after the veneer of dirt has been washed away. And everywhere the emergence of new life is apparent, shoots of vibrant green pushing their way up through the earth and embracing their chance at existence, making the most of the precious gift of water. Here and there a cactus wren flits from perch to perch, enjoying the smorgasbord presented by the plethora of bugs, tempted out of hiding by the change in weather.

The almost frenzied activity of the outside world is a stark contrast to that inhabited by the two travellers. Inside the pickup there is peace and calm, a companionable silence for there is no need for them to talk; everything of importance has been said and whatever remains unspoken isn't important. Not really. They'll get around to it in time, but not now.

Now is a time of reconciliation, of relearning, and of love.

Of no expectations.

The End.


End file.
